There's a lot I want to write about but don't know where to start. I want to write about the birthmothers we've talked to and why things haven't worked out with them, but I'm completely paranoid that one will find this blog. I need this blog to stay anonymous for my sanity, and because so much of this is very private. So I will talk in vague terms.
Adoption has been hard. Our website has now been up for several months and I've started a Fac.ebook page, which makes me feel like I constantly have homework. Do I need to advertise more? Or differently? How can I present us as the awesomely fun couple that we are?
When you're forced to come up with photos on a weekly basis (my self-imposed requirement) for how awesome you are, you realize that you are not 100% fun. You're also grocery shopping and cleaning the garage and working 40+ hours a week. I think pursuing adoption has gotten us to do some activities we otherwise wouldn't have done, just for the photo ops, which all in all is good. We're getting out a little more.
How do you capture the day-to-day goodness that goes on in your life, though? The moments where you and your spouse crack each other up for an hour drinking coffee on a Saturday morning (sedate, somewhat boring photo)? Or you take the day off of work and manage to see a baby bluebird leave its nest (happened today and would just be another photo of a bird that anyone could grab off the internet. Plus I wouldn't have been able to get the shot when it happened.)? Or how you and your spouse give your 15-year-old dog pills 6 times a day and fancy prescription dog food just because you're that awesome as caregivers? How do you convey that stuff? I think we're really good people who will be really good parents. We have a ton of energy and love that is waiting, YEARNING, to be shared with a kid.
I'm speaking a little bit out of defensiveness this week because we were dumped by someone we'd talked to for quite some time. We had never matched but it was the longest time we'd talked to anyone, and it's a big blow. Our egos are bruised and all we can say is typical insecure dumped sentiments like "I never really liked her, anyway." Which isn't true.
Getting contacted is immensely stressful. Agonizing over everything you say or write, triple-checking your emails for anything that might not sound awesomely maternal/paternal/parent-of-the-year-esque. Thinking she's the one or that she's not and you will have to reject her.
We're recovering from the blow and will survive. Worse things have happened. (Miscarriages. If I can make it through two of those, I can do this.)
******
Pain update. It's interesting to look back at older posts to see exactly where I was. The current status is not so hot. My PT and I feel like I've hit a plateau and am not making improvements, or that the improvements I'm making are so incremental as to be, well, not rapid enough. PT is trying to get me to see her less often. I go every 2 weeks now and feel like she's my lifeline. If I don't see her, how will I improve at all? But I'm going to try to wean myself.
Today is a good pain day but they don't come often. I had a complete meltdown on the phone with my dad last Saturday, wherein I cursed every aspect of my life. Ok, mostly my job. It is awful lately, way too busy, emails constantly and I'm barely staying afloat. So that cannot be helping my pain.
The good news is that the pain is mostly gone from my head. My overall pain level is still pretty bad, but I've got to acknowledge the tiny victories. Pain is in my abdomen now from the bottom of my ribcage downward. Still, I'm unable to describe it. Sometimes it is burning, but other times it's just diffuse pain that feels related to the burning type. Which I realize doesn't help you imagine it at all.
I'll see my pelvic pain doc in a couple of weeks and ensure for the 50th time that I'm maxed out on Lyrica (for neuropathic pain), there's nothing else really for me to try other than implanting nerve blocks. They will sometimes try to make it sound like we still have treatment options but it's kind of BS. All they can really do is watch me suffer and hope time will heal me.
I did read a wonderful memoir of someone with chronic pain. Book is Chocolate and Vicodin. Been meaning to email the author because her writing really touched me. Although her pain is all in her head, literally, because it's a chronic headache, and mine is abdominal, everything she said resonated. Reading it started a little shift in my perception of myself, and how I see this pain. I'm owning it more. For the longest time I expected to wake up one day and be pain-free, but I now really, REALLY know that is not in the cards for me. I have a problem with chronic pain, and will likely have it for some time. It's a disease; it's related to my endometriosis and the way my body's reacted to my surgeries/IF saga, and I'm not alone. My hospital has an entire department related to obscure women's health problems like mine. Obscure in that most people know nothing about them, but apparently they touch many women.
I'm trying to see the gifts this pain has given me. Before you puke at how O.prah self-helpy that sounds, bear with me for a second. I've spent a lot of time feeling robbed of my previous healthy life, when I could (gasp) run half marathons and do triathlons. Sure, I wasn't doing that right before my the end-all-be-all surgery—it was more in my 20's—but I could have done it. I had planned to run again. And not weigh every decision about how it will affect my pain, and should I skip such-an-such social event because I'm just not feeling well.
Back to gifts—it's similar to the "gifts" of infertility/miscarriage (again, gag about them being called gifts, but lacking a better word at the moment :) ). I feel like I've gained compassion. And that I realize even more, I'm reminded every day, that our bodies are fragile and we will all die someday. So carpe diem and all that. :P
****
To end on a lighter note, just a shout-out that I hope everyone's doing well. I'm taking today off and really loving it, even though my car is in the shop getting major repairs. It's just me and my old doggie and I'm loving it. :)
birds
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Adventures of Adopting Sans Agency
The short version of this post is that we haven't matched yet. The long version follows.
There have been A LOT of ups and downs. Amazing-sounding birthmom emails--cue WE ARE GETTING A BABY running constantly through my brain. Said amazing birthmom suddenly stops responding to emails, cue WE WILL NEVER HAVE A BABY.
When we posted our website, I'll be totally honest, I thought we would match within the first couple of months. Totally wishful thinking, which I also employed liberally during infertility struggles. It's the adoption equivalent of "next cycle will be The One."
I hadn't expected ever having to turn a birthmom down. We have done this more than once and it's horribly guilt-inducing. Heart-wrenching. I have to keep telling myself that these babies will find loving homes, because they definitely will, but it feels horrible. I instantly become attached to birthmoms and the idea of parenting their baby, and telling them we aren't a good match feels like a break-up with someone you really like but can't see a future with. It hurts. And when you don't use an agency, you have to be the one to tell them. With an agency, you probably would not have shown your profile to the person.
I tend to feel my best—no surprise—when we're communicating steadily with someone and it appears to be heading somewhere. We feel like we have been close to matching a couple of times but have been turned down along the way—birthmother decides to parent or she simply stops communicating with us, which could be for any number of reasons.
My sense for how this is different from using an agency is that the ups and downs are more frequent, but I could be wrong about that. It just seems that in being in closer contact with birthmoms, we talk with them earlier in their adoption plans when they are more likely to change their minds. I'm still fine with not using an agency because we will most likely save a lot of money, and we kinda like having more control over the process. Our lawyer has been great about answering questions, which has been key.
There you have it, our story so far in a nutshell. It is really hard. But it feels very different than trying to conceive, which is a welcome change. The sense of waiting is less intense. I feel a little less like I'm hurtling to old age and death, that I will die before I have a baby (yes, that is morbid, but I'm not the only one that feels like old age is imminent, right?). I know we become less attractive to birthparents as we age, but I'm convinced that we can do this, and hopefully twice, before we get out the walkers and canes. At least, today I am convinced, and I will enjoy the optimism today because it's certainly not a frequent visitor.
There have been A LOT of ups and downs. Amazing-sounding birthmom emails--cue WE ARE GETTING A BABY running constantly through my brain. Said amazing birthmom suddenly stops responding to emails, cue WE WILL NEVER HAVE A BABY.
When we posted our website, I'll be totally honest, I thought we would match within the first couple of months. Totally wishful thinking, which I also employed liberally during infertility struggles. It's the adoption equivalent of "next cycle will be The One."
I hadn't expected ever having to turn a birthmom down. We have done this more than once and it's horribly guilt-inducing. Heart-wrenching. I have to keep telling myself that these babies will find loving homes, because they definitely will, but it feels horrible. I instantly become attached to birthmoms and the idea of parenting their baby, and telling them we aren't a good match feels like a break-up with someone you really like but can't see a future with. It hurts. And when you don't use an agency, you have to be the one to tell them. With an agency, you probably would not have shown your profile to the person.
I tend to feel my best—no surprise—when we're communicating steadily with someone and it appears to be heading somewhere. We feel like we have been close to matching a couple of times but have been turned down along the way—birthmother decides to parent or she simply stops communicating with us, which could be for any number of reasons.
My sense for how this is different from using an agency is that the ups and downs are more frequent, but I could be wrong about that. It just seems that in being in closer contact with birthmoms, we talk with them earlier in their adoption plans when they are more likely to change their minds. I'm still fine with not using an agency because we will most likely save a lot of money, and we kinda like having more control over the process. Our lawyer has been great about answering questions, which has been key.
There you have it, our story so far in a nutshell. It is really hard. But it feels very different than trying to conceive, which is a welcome change. The sense of waiting is less intense. I feel a little less like I'm hurtling to old age and death, that I will die before I have a baby (yes, that is morbid, but I'm not the only one that feels like old age is imminent, right?). I know we become less attractive to birthparents as we age, but I'm convinced that we can do this, and hopefully twice, before we get out the walkers and canes. At least, today I am convinced, and I will enjoy the optimism today because it's certainly not a frequent visitor.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Please Pick Me
Our adoption website went live last week and it's rather terrifying. TOTALLY did not expect to be so emotional. I confess that when I heard of the adoption wait as being difficult, I pshawed. How could it possibly compare to the torture of waiting, cycle after cycle, to see if a period arrived?
It's not really the same beast. My body isn't involved at all, thank God. I usually have no idea what cycle day I'm on. I don't obsessively examine every twinge in my abdomen and hint of nausea. No need to worry about having sex on certain days. No more RE visits.
The wait still sucks, though. Truly. Since we're doing domestic newborn adoption, we have to wait for a birthmom to choose us. And day to day, when I go to bed, I feel a sense of rejection that we have not been chosen that day. Not even been interviewed by phone. Not been emailed.
I realize I am being slightly ridiculous because our profile has only been up for one week at this point. And....we have already received one call. She was perfect and wonderful and I immediately fell for her. For some reason, I had expected to keep some sort of distance from birthmothers when they called, some kind of protective barrier to keep from being hurt. The barrier was promptly smashed and I don't think I can possibly hope for distance anymore.
The birthmother called on Friday night and hasn't called again. I don't have her contact info for various reasons, so I just have to wait. It feels like waiting on a guy to call times 1000. Miserable.
Even if she doesn't call back, I know I learned a lot from the call and am better prepared for others. When she called, we spent most of the time chatting and getting to know one another, and I didn't ask a few critical questions. Like, will the birthfather sign the consent forms? Huge question.
So there was that call on Fri, and a hint of a call on Sat night. Someone from a nearby area code where a lot of birthmoms live called but didn't respond when my husband picked up. I was gone at book club. We're realizing that I'm the key player here, not my husband. We knew the focus would be more on me, we just hadn't realized how much that would be the case. Which makes rejection even more personal. UGH.
One reason I hadn't been adequately prepared for the wait is that my sample size of people using this website is very small, and some friends of ours got several calls very quickly. They're young and awesome and in demand, obviously, and had a baby ONE MONTH after posting their profile. Yeah. So it's hard not to feel some bizarre sense of competition, and feeling like we're failing.
Ok, pity party over. Called my psychiatrist yesterday and we have a plan to deal with my heightened mood lability (ie, crying a lot). I'm 100% confident that I'll feel a bit better soon.
*****
My heart is with Boston. This atrocity is so hard to comprehend. I used to run a lot of races, including half marathons, and made a lot of runner friends. This is hitting so close to home for them, as many of them have run Boston or aspired to. I just can't believe this happened.
*****
We posted our adoption website on Facebook and it's so uncomfortable. It feels like a big declaration of my uterus being faulty (no, have not resolved my anger towards my body), and like we're asking people to endorse us as parents. Other people get to have sex and then announce a pregnancy a few months later, and I have to ask people to vote for me as a parent. Great.
Ok then! Could not stay our of pity territory for long, oops. :P
Part of my plan to get through the waiting it to stay busy. My policy is not to turn down any social opportunities, plan lots of weekend activities, etc. And relish finishing up the nursery. It is getting close--apparently painting a mural is easier said than done--and I want to enjoy the last of our decorating time. We WILL have a baby to occupy it, and it will hopefully not be too long from now.
It's not really the same beast. My body isn't involved at all, thank God. I usually have no idea what cycle day I'm on. I don't obsessively examine every twinge in my abdomen and hint of nausea. No need to worry about having sex on certain days. No more RE visits.
The wait still sucks, though. Truly. Since we're doing domestic newborn adoption, we have to wait for a birthmom to choose us. And day to day, when I go to bed, I feel a sense of rejection that we have not been chosen that day. Not even been interviewed by phone. Not been emailed.
I realize I am being slightly ridiculous because our profile has only been up for one week at this point. And....we have already received one call. She was perfect and wonderful and I immediately fell for her. For some reason, I had expected to keep some sort of distance from birthmothers when they called, some kind of protective barrier to keep from being hurt. The barrier was promptly smashed and I don't think I can possibly hope for distance anymore.
The birthmother called on Friday night and hasn't called again. I don't have her contact info for various reasons, so I just have to wait. It feels like waiting on a guy to call times 1000. Miserable.
Even if she doesn't call back, I know I learned a lot from the call and am better prepared for others. When she called, we spent most of the time chatting and getting to know one another, and I didn't ask a few critical questions. Like, will the birthfather sign the consent forms? Huge question.
So there was that call on Fri, and a hint of a call on Sat night. Someone from a nearby area code where a lot of birthmoms live called but didn't respond when my husband picked up. I was gone at book club. We're realizing that I'm the key player here, not my husband. We knew the focus would be more on me, we just hadn't realized how much that would be the case. Which makes rejection even more personal. UGH.
One reason I hadn't been adequately prepared for the wait is that my sample size of people using this website is very small, and some friends of ours got several calls very quickly. They're young and awesome and in demand, obviously, and had a baby ONE MONTH after posting their profile. Yeah. So it's hard not to feel some bizarre sense of competition, and feeling like we're failing.
Ok, pity party over. Called my psychiatrist yesterday and we have a plan to deal with my heightened mood lability (ie, crying a lot). I'm 100% confident that I'll feel a bit better soon.
*****
My heart is with Boston. This atrocity is so hard to comprehend. I used to run a lot of races, including half marathons, and made a lot of runner friends. This is hitting so close to home for them, as many of them have run Boston or aspired to. I just can't believe this happened.
*****
We posted our adoption website on Facebook and it's so uncomfortable. It feels like a big declaration of my uterus being faulty (no, have not resolved my anger towards my body), and like we're asking people to endorse us as parents. Other people get to have sex and then announce a pregnancy a few months later, and I have to ask people to vote for me as a parent. Great.
Ok then! Could not stay our of pity territory for long, oops. :P
Part of my plan to get through the waiting it to stay busy. My policy is not to turn down any social opportunities, plan lots of weekend activities, etc. And relish finishing up the nursery. It is getting close--apparently painting a mural is easier said than done--and I want to enjoy the last of our decorating time. We WILL have a baby to occupy it, and it will hopefully not be too long from now.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Of a Nursery, Recovery, and Anniversary
Much activity is taking place around the Detour household: we are pursuing adoption!
I'm shocked that this is actually happening. Since I last posted in early January, Mr. Detour abruptly announced one morning that he was ready. The previous day, we'd met with a couple who successfully adopted through a popular website (plus an attorney), rather than an agency. (They were so successful that they matched within 2 days of posting their profile. The birthmom was 8 months along, so our friends were parents within 1 month of going live.) The idea of independent adoption sat better with Mr. Detour than using an agency, and that led to his proclamation of being ready, I guess. Whatever it was, Thank You, universe. As you know, I've been ready!
We had our two home study visits in February and are now just waiting for our social worker to write up our biography. We'll be approved by the end of this month. So I'm obsessing about getting our profile written. While I worry about time-critical concerns like that, Mr. Detour obsesses about the nursery. Yes, we are decorating it now. It is absolutely beautiful so far. I will post pics when we're further along.
I'm firmly convinced that we will have our baby by the end of this year. I refuse to allow thoughts of waiting beyond that. That strategy—being recklessly optimistic— got me through infertility, so I'm going to continue with it. We have several friends who have adopted within a few months, so who's to say it won't happen for us? I won't think too much of our neighbors who waited 3 years.
*****
Now for the pain update. Not a whole lot to report, but things are definitely on the upswing. It's about half and half: around my period, for around 2 weeks, I feel really bad. But not as bad as 6 months ago—the pain isn't constant. I don't always wake up and go to sleep in pain. The other 2 weeks of my cycle, not around my period, I feel...pretty good. The pain reminds me that it's still around, waiting to strike, but it's not too bad.
So you'd expect my pain, originating from whacked-out pelvic floor muscles, to be in my pelvis, right? The worst pain now is actually in my head. Crazy. I don't fully understand it, but it has to do with pelvic nerves telling other nerves to freak out and before you know it, every nerve in my body is on fire. So my head hurting—it's not like any headache I've ever experienced, and comes from the center of my body, like my core, right under my solar plexus. It's almost like I can feel the pain coming up from the pelvic nerves to my brain. And the pain isn't the burning type of neuropathic pain I'm used to, and I have no good words to describe it. Definitely not aching. Maybe dull but with a burning component. There's just something about it that so different from non-neuropathic pain.
I can't remember if I've posted this before, but I'm allergic to TENS now. The little sticky things that attach the electrodes make me break out in a rash. Not good at all. I have a history of problems with adhesives and thought I'd snuck around it, but sneaking only worked for so long. So TENS is currently not part of my pain strategy. It really sucks and increases my reliance on meds, but I have to focus on the good: I'm getting better.
I'm no longer held hostage by pain. I can run errands without hesitation, and I take walks three times a week. About a mile or two each time!! Shocking. I've come really far.
*****
That's where I am now. Oh, and I have a big anniversary tomorrow. The day of my surgery last year, THE surgery that started this whole mess. I've felt really emotional about it, similar to other crappy anniversaries like miscarriages or due dates. What if I hadn't had the surgery? Well, duh. I wouldn't be in pain now. But there's no way I could have known. Trying to come to terms with that decision.
So, Crappy Anniversary to me. To celebrate, hubby and I are going to the beach for 5 days, leaving tomorrow morning. Hopefully it will not be gloomy and cold there and we'll actually be able to get out some. And if not, we'll have even more time to work on our profile and get it in decent shape. It's hard to sell yourself...where do you start? How do you sound sincere and not completely cheeseball?
I'm trying to keep up with the blogosphere but admit I've been a little lacking on that front. Sorry for my absence and hope you're doing well!
I'm shocked that this is actually happening. Since I last posted in early January, Mr. Detour abruptly announced one morning that he was ready. The previous day, we'd met with a couple who successfully adopted through a popular website (plus an attorney), rather than an agency. (They were so successful that they matched within 2 days of posting their profile. The birthmom was 8 months along, so our friends were parents within 1 month of going live.) The idea of independent adoption sat better with Mr. Detour than using an agency, and that led to his proclamation of being ready, I guess. Whatever it was, Thank You, universe. As you know, I've been ready!
We had our two home study visits in February and are now just waiting for our social worker to write up our biography. We'll be approved by the end of this month. So I'm obsessing about getting our profile written. While I worry about time-critical concerns like that, Mr. Detour obsesses about the nursery. Yes, we are decorating it now. It is absolutely beautiful so far. I will post pics when we're further along.
I'm firmly convinced that we will have our baby by the end of this year. I refuse to allow thoughts of waiting beyond that. That strategy—being recklessly optimistic— got me through infertility, so I'm going to continue with it. We have several friends who have adopted within a few months, so who's to say it won't happen for us? I won't think too much of our neighbors who waited 3 years.
*****
Now for the pain update. Not a whole lot to report, but things are definitely on the upswing. It's about half and half: around my period, for around 2 weeks, I feel really bad. But not as bad as 6 months ago—the pain isn't constant. I don't always wake up and go to sleep in pain. The other 2 weeks of my cycle, not around my period, I feel...pretty good. The pain reminds me that it's still around, waiting to strike, but it's not too bad.
So you'd expect my pain, originating from whacked-out pelvic floor muscles, to be in my pelvis, right? The worst pain now is actually in my head. Crazy. I don't fully understand it, but it has to do with pelvic nerves telling other nerves to freak out and before you know it, every nerve in my body is on fire. So my head hurting—it's not like any headache I've ever experienced, and comes from the center of my body, like my core, right under my solar plexus. It's almost like I can feel the pain coming up from the pelvic nerves to my brain. And the pain isn't the burning type of neuropathic pain I'm used to, and I have no good words to describe it. Definitely not aching. Maybe dull but with a burning component. There's just something about it that so different from non-neuropathic pain.
I can't remember if I've posted this before, but I'm allergic to TENS now. The little sticky things that attach the electrodes make me break out in a rash. Not good at all. I have a history of problems with adhesives and thought I'd snuck around it, but sneaking only worked for so long. So TENS is currently not part of my pain strategy. It really sucks and increases my reliance on meds, but I have to focus on the good: I'm getting better.
I'm no longer held hostage by pain. I can run errands without hesitation, and I take walks three times a week. About a mile or two each time!! Shocking. I've come really far.
*****
That's where I am now. Oh, and I have a big anniversary tomorrow. The day of my surgery last year, THE surgery that started this whole mess. I've felt really emotional about it, similar to other crappy anniversaries like miscarriages or due dates. What if I hadn't had the surgery? Well, duh. I wouldn't be in pain now. But there's no way I could have known. Trying to come to terms with that decision.
So, Crappy Anniversary to me. To celebrate, hubby and I are going to the beach for 5 days, leaving tomorrow morning. Hopefully it will not be gloomy and cold there and we'll actually be able to get out some. And if not, we'll have even more time to work on our profile and get it in decent shape. It's hard to sell yourself...where do you start? How do you sound sincere and not completely cheeseball?
I'm trying to keep up with the blogosphere but admit I've been a little lacking on that front. Sorry for my absence and hope you're doing well!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Much-needed Update
Hi guys. Happy new year to you all and I am trying to catch up on your blogs. My absence was due to a very boring reason: work. For the past several months, I have worked like crazy and collapsed in front of the TV at night. It's been a crappy, unhealthy cycle, and blogging has had to take a backseat. The especially bummy part is that I'm not sure when work will slow down.
In addition to feeling blahsville about work, my Get a Baby plan is completely stalled. I am 100% ready to begin adoption proceedings and my husband is not. I can't make him be ready, and trying to talk to him about it more and more is veering into coercion territory. I hate that we're in this position; it's a huge strain and I've never felt more at odds with him. There is so much more to the story that I won't get into here, including his denial that I'm finished with trying for a bio baby. Please tell me we aren't the only couple who goes through this when deciding to adopt. I have heard that many couples go through this, but I can't rid myself of this feeling that we're the oddballs. And that this will never happen for us.
The holidays have really stalled any progress we were making in the adoption direction because we've had so many trips and family visits. A week with my parents at Thanksgiving, and now we're in the middle of 2.5 weeks of solid family time. I KNOW. It's a looong time.
This month, I'm hoping to meet with three different adoptive couples (with the hubster present, of course, since he needs this more than I do), one of which used ParentProfiles.com instead of an agency. We're really intrigued by that and want to learn more.
The good news with me is that my pain is getting MUCH better. I cannot believe the progress I've made in the past few months. I'm actually getting teary just thinking about it. I still have good weeks and bad weeks; I'm in the middle of a good one and I've practically been Mary Poppins singing and dancing my way around the house as I entertain my little nieces and nephews. It's like I'm another person. I don't really know who this person is, but I like her.
I feel like I have so much more to say, but can't quite put it into words. I hope to be back here soon and better in touch with you guys. I've been thinking of you often!
In addition to feeling blahsville about work, my Get a Baby plan is completely stalled. I am 100% ready to begin adoption proceedings and my husband is not. I can't make him be ready, and trying to talk to him about it more and more is veering into coercion territory. I hate that we're in this position; it's a huge strain and I've never felt more at odds with him. There is so much more to the story that I won't get into here, including his denial that I'm finished with trying for a bio baby. Please tell me we aren't the only couple who goes through this when deciding to adopt. I have heard that many couples go through this, but I can't rid myself of this feeling that we're the oddballs. And that this will never happen for us.
The holidays have really stalled any progress we were making in the adoption direction because we've had so many trips and family visits. A week with my parents at Thanksgiving, and now we're in the middle of 2.5 weeks of solid family time. I KNOW. It's a looong time.
This month, I'm hoping to meet with three different adoptive couples (with the hubster present, of course, since he needs this more than I do), one of which used ParentProfiles.com instead of an agency. We're really intrigued by that and want to learn more.
The good news with me is that my pain is getting MUCH better. I cannot believe the progress I've made in the past few months. I'm actually getting teary just thinking about it. I still have good weeks and bad weeks; I'm in the middle of a good one and I've practically been Mary Poppins singing and dancing my way around the house as I entertain my little nieces and nephews. It's like I'm another person. I don't really know who this person is, but I like her.
I feel like I have so much more to say, but can't quite put it into words. I hope to be back here soon and better in touch with you guys. I've been thinking of you often!
Friday, October 26, 2012
I Ruined My Body
My guilt factor is sky high lately. What if I hadn't had that surgery, what if I'd had another doctor do the such-and-such surgery, what if I'd had no surgeries at all? What if I'd factored in my health first?
It's just overwhelming to live in constant pain, pain that's a direct result of (in)fertility treatments. (Side note: I feel like an imposter saying "fertility" treatments because I really only went through one medicated treatment cycle).
When we were TTC, any guilty feelings were centered around what I wasn't doing: not eating/drinking the correct things, exercising too much or too little. I shouldn't have eaten that goat cheese! I probably killed my embryo! Etc. Or feeling wishing I had started treatments earlier.
I can't stop thinking lately about all the infertility-related choices I've made in the past few years. I chose the crappy RE to do my initial IF workup. Since the crappy doc suggested a laparoscopy to see how "messed up" I was inside (his words) and I didn't trust him to do it, I chose an outside endometriosis-specialized physician to do the surgery. During the lap, the endo guy also did a hysteroscopy and said my septum wasn't large enough to be a fertility issue, and he didn't see any other problems.
Enter the good RE, who eventually found scar tissue in my ute and thought my septum was an issue after all. Two surgeries later, my life was turned completely upside down by chronic pain. I don't blame her surgical skills—I blame the damn balloon—but my life changed dramatically on 3/9/12.
I'm trying to forgive myself for everything. For not seeing the good RE first, for not doing more research before I started having surgeries. For trusting that any type of hysteroscopic surgery was minor. After all, I'd had laparoscopic surgery already. Why would I flinch at something less major than that? It's like doing injectable IUIs after Clomid ones; eh, not that big a leap.
Now that my TTC chapter is closed, I can look at it as a whole and see the flaws and horror more clearly. I'm not wrapped up in next steps and cycle days, which is AWESOME, don't get me wrong. But reflecting on that period of time is rough, and I guess the TTC chapter is being drawn out in a way because I'm still physically feeling the effects of my treatments.
I feel like I've ruined my body. I mentioned on my last post that I used to run half marathons. Running was a huge part of my life throughout my 20's. I ran 5Ks, 10Ks, and half marathons. Before that, in high school and earlier, I was as dancer. In my 30's, I took up yoga and practice almost daily.
That's where I was, physically speaking, on 3/9/12: lean and mean from many hours of yoga. I felt great when I practiced and was strong enough to do some pretty tough poses. I was flexible for the first time in my life.
I can't even take a walk now. I risked my body's wrath today by walking for about 20 min at lunchtime and I'll probably suffer the consequences this weekend. I feel completely defective and it's embarassing to talk about; how do you tell your coworkers that you can't walk because your pelvic floor muscles are fucked up? Who wants to say "pelvic" anywhere in the vicinity of work?
My body is mushy now and 5 pounds heavier. My pants are getting tighter and tighter. Surprising fact: if you don't move around at all and keep eating as if you do, you gain weight. I want to move. I crave exercise. I want to stretch and be flexible again and not feel my hamstring clamp up when I put up my leg while shaving. I've tried stretching; I really have. It turns out that your pelvic floor muscles are connected to EVERYTHING and hence EVERYTHING hurts to stretch. Want to stretch out my pinkie finger? Can't. Connected to the pelvic floor. My PT tells me to do what I comfortably can but not to do anything painful at this point, so I'm left with nothing to do except a couple of measly exercises she gave me.
So, to summarize: my lady parts are fucked up because we tried too hard to get pregnant (see what I mean? Impossible to talk about without getting into areas all sexual-like). I hate my body and hate that I ignored the warning signs. I already had pelvic pain before all the IF shenanigans started. Why did I screw things up more down there? Blah.
*****
Hmm, that was all over the place and not at all what I set out to write. Funny how that works.
I'm tired of the headaches. TENS helps with them so we're going steady again. The headaches almost make me feel cross-eyed at moments, like I can't focus for a second because of the intensity. It's really weird, but I can tell that the headaches are part of the neuropathic pain, and my doc concurred. It's like the pain comes up from my pelvis (hate that word and must find a new one), through my core and spreads out in my head. Caffeine and painkillers don't touch it. Lyrica is pretty much the only thing that works, that and TENS. I'm going through 9V batteries like a fiend. It turns out that rechargeable 9Vs aren't as readily available or as high a quality as you might think.
In the interest of ending on a high note, I had a major victory today. <drumroll> ...I did not cry at a coworker's pregnancy announcement. I cried at her last one but shrugged off this one like a champ. It helped that my pregdar went off big-time when I saw her this morning...it wasn't her body, it was her smug pregginess. And I'm sure I will love the upcoming meetings when she will turn work-related conversations into something about her baby.
But anyway. No tears! Victory! :)
Have a great weekend!
It's just overwhelming to live in constant pain, pain that's a direct result of (in)fertility treatments. (Side note: I feel like an imposter saying "fertility" treatments because I really only went through one medicated treatment cycle).
When we were TTC, any guilty feelings were centered around what I wasn't doing: not eating/drinking the correct things, exercising too much or too little. I shouldn't have eaten that goat cheese! I probably killed my embryo! Etc. Or feeling wishing I had started treatments earlier.
I can't stop thinking lately about all the infertility-related choices I've made in the past few years. I chose the crappy RE to do my initial IF workup. Since the crappy doc suggested a laparoscopy to see how "messed up" I was inside (his words) and I didn't trust him to do it, I chose an outside endometriosis-specialized physician to do the surgery. During the lap, the endo guy also did a hysteroscopy and said my septum wasn't large enough to be a fertility issue, and he didn't see any other problems.
Enter the good RE, who eventually found scar tissue in my ute and thought my septum was an issue after all. Two surgeries later, my life was turned completely upside down by chronic pain. I don't blame her surgical skills—I blame the damn balloon—but my life changed dramatically on 3/9/12.
I'm trying to forgive myself for everything. For not seeing the good RE first, for not doing more research before I started having surgeries. For trusting that any type of hysteroscopic surgery was minor. After all, I'd had laparoscopic surgery already. Why would I flinch at something less major than that? It's like doing injectable IUIs after Clomid ones; eh, not that big a leap.
Now that my TTC chapter is closed, I can look at it as a whole and see the flaws and horror more clearly. I'm not wrapped up in next steps and cycle days, which is AWESOME, don't get me wrong. But reflecting on that period of time is rough, and I guess the TTC chapter is being drawn out in a way because I'm still physically feeling the effects of my treatments.
I feel like I've ruined my body. I mentioned on my last post that I used to run half marathons. Running was a huge part of my life throughout my 20's. I ran 5Ks, 10Ks, and half marathons. Before that, in high school and earlier, I was as dancer. In my 30's, I took up yoga and practice almost daily.
That's where I was, physically speaking, on 3/9/12: lean and mean from many hours of yoga. I felt great when I practiced and was strong enough to do some pretty tough poses. I was flexible for the first time in my life.
I can't even take a walk now. I risked my body's wrath today by walking for about 20 min at lunchtime and I'll probably suffer the consequences this weekend. I feel completely defective and it's embarassing to talk about; how do you tell your coworkers that you can't walk because your pelvic floor muscles are fucked up? Who wants to say "pelvic" anywhere in the vicinity of work?
My body is mushy now and 5 pounds heavier. My pants are getting tighter and tighter. Surprising fact: if you don't move around at all and keep eating as if you do, you gain weight. I want to move. I crave exercise. I want to stretch and be flexible again and not feel my hamstring clamp up when I put up my leg while shaving. I've tried stretching; I really have. It turns out that your pelvic floor muscles are connected to EVERYTHING and hence EVERYTHING hurts to stretch. Want to stretch out my pinkie finger? Can't. Connected to the pelvic floor. My PT tells me to do what I comfortably can but not to do anything painful at this point, so I'm left with nothing to do except a couple of measly exercises she gave me.
So, to summarize: my lady parts are fucked up because we tried too hard to get pregnant (see what I mean? Impossible to talk about without getting into areas all sexual-like). I hate my body and hate that I ignored the warning signs. I already had pelvic pain before all the IF shenanigans started. Why did I screw things up more down there? Blah.
*****
Hmm, that was all over the place and not at all what I set out to write. Funny how that works.
I'm tired of the headaches. TENS helps with them so we're going steady again. The headaches almost make me feel cross-eyed at moments, like I can't focus for a second because of the intensity. It's really weird, but I can tell that the headaches are part of the neuropathic pain, and my doc concurred. It's like the pain comes up from my pelvis (hate that word and must find a new one), through my core and spreads out in my head. Caffeine and painkillers don't touch it. Lyrica is pretty much the only thing that works, that and TENS. I'm going through 9V batteries like a fiend. It turns out that rechargeable 9Vs aren't as readily available or as high a quality as you might think.
In the interest of ending on a high note, I had a major victory today. <drumroll> ...I did not cry at a coworker's pregnancy announcement. I cried at her last one but shrugged off this one like a champ. It helped that my pregdar went off big-time when I saw her this morning...it wasn't her body, it was her smug pregginess. And I'm sure I will love the upcoming meetings when she will turn work-related conversations into something about her baby.
But anyway. No tears! Victory! :)
Have a great weekend!
Saturday, October 20, 2012
I Never Want to Be Pregnant
Under no circumstances do I want to be pregnant. I do not want to have an oopsie baby after I adopt. I do not want to have a surprise pregnancy at age 43. I do not want to do another letrozole cycle.
This does not mean I don't wish things were different with my body. That I don't wish I had another body without a pain syndrome and uterine issues. I still long to grow a round belly, feel kicks and punches from a little one inside me. The desire, the longing, is still there. But it's like wishing you hadn't broken your arm; it's broken and you have to deal with it. Maybe you have to stop playing tennis forever. Maybe the break is so bad it will affect you the rest of your life. You can spend your time wishing you weren't limited physically or you can adjust your expectations.
My decision to forever stop TTC didn't happen overnight. A few weeks after my surgery in March, even though I was still in extreme pain, I was scheduling a 3D sonogram appointment to prepare for my next letrozole cycle. I was optimistic. I didn't know this kind of pain syndrome even existed. Who has heard about pelvic floor muscles unless you've given birth or are 80 years old? I hadn't been aware of mine.
Needless to say, I had to cancel the 3D sono appointment, which was just one of the many things that has given me pause since March. If I couldn't schedule it at that point, then when? The next month? Three months from now? (Correct answer is none of the above.)
My thinking shifted gradually. I'd felt unsure about trying for pregnancy #3, anyway. Pregnancy #2 ended around 7 weeks last fall. The chromosomal testing came back normal, and my doctor thought the miscarriage was related to a structural problem with my uterus. Supposedly the structural issue was fixed by my last (catastrophic) surgery, but who really knows? Why tempt fate? Why put myself in the position to lose another baby when my heart has been shattered twice already?
As the months ticked by after the surgery, I stopped planning for my next RE appointment. I had a brand new, all-consuming shitstorm with that wasn't TTC-related: chronic pain. But in spite of that, I started living again. I ate what I wanted: suddenly, soy is ok again! Dairy is not evil! No need to go gluten/nut/coffee/sugar-free for fostering the ideal environment for baby to stick around! I didn't know what cycle day I was on. I didn't cry in the bathroom when my period arrived and then fill my grief with baked goods. Not TTCing has been one of the most freeing things in the world.
Before The Surgery to End All Surgeries, I'd had difficulty conceiving and two miscarriages, and I hated TTCing. The IF blogosphere is filled with people like me who keep trying, understandably, for their take-home baby. Chronic pain is what did me in.
I'm kind of an old pro with intermittent pelvic pain. I've had horribly painful periods since I was a teenager, which turned out to be endometriosis that was probably contributing to my infertility (huge surprise—not). But the painful periods were only for a few days a month.
The pain I have now is all the time.
I've never experienced any kind of chronic, day-to-day pain other than run-of-the mill tendinitis or other exercise-related aches. This is completely new. If I hadn't gone through infertility and loss, I'd say this is the hardest thing I've ever gone through. So it's a close third. The pain tries to shatter me. Not one aspect of my life is untouched: my relationships, my job, my sleep. My sanity.
I've used about 130 hours of sick leave for the pain since March. I missed my nephew's first birthday party and my niece's summer ballet recital. My demeanor has been irritable and prickly for the most part, even if at first I appear pleasant. A smile or pleasant conversation does not mean I'm not in pain or will not suddenly lash out at something. Or just lose track of what you're saying as I plot my next attempt at pain relief. My pain level is usually pretty high but I'm trying, trying ever so hard to pretend it doesn't exist. The irritability is usually unleashed on my husband, and when I immediately apologize and explain that my pain level is really high, he is understanding. But he doesn't deserve this.
I go to PT weekly and usually have one other doctor's appointment during the week; it's a big time-suck. At these appointments, I've asked about my prognosis, of course. My healthcare providers don't like this question because they don't know the answer. They hem and haw a bit, and say we'll have to wait and see, "ask me again in a few weeks." The two physicians I've asked are both pelvic pain specialists, and both have predicted that I would "probably" be fine with a pregnancy. That pregnancy hormones tend to have a calming influence on my syndrome.
Fine. But what about the ENTIRE REST OF MY LIFE AFTER THE PREGNANCY? Will the changes wrought by pregnancy and childbirth wreak havoc on my already fucked-up body?
The physicians haven't given me a real answer for that. My PT has given it to me straight, though. She says she's seen it both ways: some people with my issues have a pregnancy that goes ok and they feel fine afterwards, and some do not. I didn't ask her to elaborate much because I don't even want to hear about patients who have it worse afterwards; I cannot imagine their pain.
I'm not a risk-taker. Not that anyone knows statistics for outcomes of women with uterine abnormalities who have undergone surgeries and go on to develop chronic pelvic pain and then go on to have pregnancies, but I've thought a little about what kind of odds I would bet on: at what odds of worsened pain in the future would I consider getting pregnant again? What if 50% of women like me felt ok during the pregnancy and then, postpartum and beyond, felt even better than before the pregnancy? 50/50 odds. No way in hell I'd do it. What if 90% felt great afterward? Nope, still wouldn't do it.
I cannot conceive (pun intended) of a future filled with this kind of pain. It's been going on for 7 months already and I don't know how I've done it. People comment on how strong I am to have dealt with this for so long, but I don't feel strong. I just feel like myself....in severe pain. It's day-to-day living now. I try not to plan too far in advance.
If I can't find a way to decrease my pain level before I have a child, I cannot be the kind of mom I want to be. I physically could not handle the sleep deprivation that comes with a newborn; less sleep = more pain. I would be glued to the couch, not on the floor playing with my baby or walking around to soothe her at night. I couldn't take her for walks in the stroller or teach her to ride a bike. I would have trouble attending her soccer games; sitting up for a couple of hours hurts too much. Worst of all, I could not be the emotionally supportive, stable, fun type of mom I want to be. It would not be possible.
The decision not to TTC is easier knowing that adoption is a possibility. But even if adoption wasn't on the table and our remaining option was childfree living, I would have to choose childfree living over TTC. Why in the world would I choose *possibly* having severe pain the rest of my life? My (hopefully) future children would be worse off for it, my family and husband would struggle with me, and I would constantly fight the pain demon.
When I started this post, I'd intended to write even more, tell you about how in my previous incarnation, I ran a half marathon at an 8:10 min/mile pace. Now I can hardly walk a mile once a week. I'd wanted to tell you that I do still grieve for the loss of my husband's and my biological child, the little blonde boy who looks like his dad. Also, I could write for days about how you don't know until you've been there what kind of decisions you'd make when you've had pain that reaches an 8 every day, sometimes staying there for hours at a time. And it goes on for months and months, possibly years. But I've written enough for now.
For all of these reasons, I will never pursue pregnancy again. I love myself too much and won't knowingly put myself in harm's way. I want more out of life than appointments, pills, and this seemingly endless gnawing, burning pain that is trying to eat me alive.
This does not mean I don't wish things were different with my body. That I don't wish I had another body without a pain syndrome and uterine issues. I still long to grow a round belly, feel kicks and punches from a little one inside me. The desire, the longing, is still there. But it's like wishing you hadn't broken your arm; it's broken and you have to deal with it. Maybe you have to stop playing tennis forever. Maybe the break is so bad it will affect you the rest of your life. You can spend your time wishing you weren't limited physically or you can adjust your expectations.
My decision to forever stop TTC didn't happen overnight. A few weeks after my surgery in March, even though I was still in extreme pain, I was scheduling a 3D sonogram appointment to prepare for my next letrozole cycle. I was optimistic. I didn't know this kind of pain syndrome even existed. Who has heard about pelvic floor muscles unless you've given birth or are 80 years old? I hadn't been aware of mine.
Needless to say, I had to cancel the 3D sono appointment, which was just one of the many things that has given me pause since March. If I couldn't schedule it at that point, then when? The next month? Three months from now? (Correct answer is none of the above.)
My thinking shifted gradually. I'd felt unsure about trying for pregnancy #3, anyway. Pregnancy #2 ended around 7 weeks last fall. The chromosomal testing came back normal, and my doctor thought the miscarriage was related to a structural problem with my uterus. Supposedly the structural issue was fixed by my last (catastrophic) surgery, but who really knows? Why tempt fate? Why put myself in the position to lose another baby when my heart has been shattered twice already?
As the months ticked by after the surgery, I stopped planning for my next RE appointment. I had a brand new, all-consuming shitstorm with that wasn't TTC-related: chronic pain. But in spite of that, I started living again. I ate what I wanted: suddenly, soy is ok again! Dairy is not evil! No need to go gluten/nut/coffee/sugar-free for fostering the ideal environment for baby to stick around! I didn't know what cycle day I was on. I didn't cry in the bathroom when my period arrived and then fill my grief with baked goods. Not TTCing has been one of the most freeing things in the world.
Before The Surgery to End All Surgeries, I'd had difficulty conceiving and two miscarriages, and I hated TTCing. The IF blogosphere is filled with people like me who keep trying, understandably, for their take-home baby. Chronic pain is what did me in.
I'm kind of an old pro with intermittent pelvic pain. I've had horribly painful periods since I was a teenager, which turned out to be endometriosis that was probably contributing to my infertility (huge surprise—not). But the painful periods were only for a few days a month.
The pain I have now is all the time.
I've never experienced any kind of chronic, day-to-day pain other than run-of-the mill tendinitis or other exercise-related aches. This is completely new. If I hadn't gone through infertility and loss, I'd say this is the hardest thing I've ever gone through. So it's a close third. The pain tries to shatter me. Not one aspect of my life is untouched: my relationships, my job, my sleep. My sanity.
I've used about 130 hours of sick leave for the pain since March. I missed my nephew's first birthday party and my niece's summer ballet recital. My demeanor has been irritable and prickly for the most part, even if at first I appear pleasant. A smile or pleasant conversation does not mean I'm not in pain or will not suddenly lash out at something. Or just lose track of what you're saying as I plot my next attempt at pain relief. My pain level is usually pretty high but I'm trying, trying ever so hard to pretend it doesn't exist. The irritability is usually unleashed on my husband, and when I immediately apologize and explain that my pain level is really high, he is understanding. But he doesn't deserve this.
I go to PT weekly and usually have one other doctor's appointment during the week; it's a big time-suck. At these appointments, I've asked about my prognosis, of course. My healthcare providers don't like this question because they don't know the answer. They hem and haw a bit, and say we'll have to wait and see, "ask me again in a few weeks." The two physicians I've asked are both pelvic pain specialists, and both have predicted that I would "probably" be fine with a pregnancy. That pregnancy hormones tend to have a calming influence on my syndrome.
Fine. But what about the ENTIRE REST OF MY LIFE AFTER THE PREGNANCY? Will the changes wrought by pregnancy and childbirth wreak havoc on my already fucked-up body?
The physicians haven't given me a real answer for that. My PT has given it to me straight, though. She says she's seen it both ways: some people with my issues have a pregnancy that goes ok and they feel fine afterwards, and some do not. I didn't ask her to elaborate much because I don't even want to hear about patients who have it worse afterwards; I cannot imagine their pain.
I'm not a risk-taker. Not that anyone knows statistics for outcomes of women with uterine abnormalities who have undergone surgeries and go on to develop chronic pelvic pain and then go on to have pregnancies, but I've thought a little about what kind of odds I would bet on: at what odds of worsened pain in the future would I consider getting pregnant again? What if 50% of women like me felt ok during the pregnancy and then, postpartum and beyond, felt even better than before the pregnancy? 50/50 odds. No way in hell I'd do it. What if 90% felt great afterward? Nope, still wouldn't do it.
I cannot conceive (pun intended) of a future filled with this kind of pain. It's been going on for 7 months already and I don't know how I've done it. People comment on how strong I am to have dealt with this for so long, but I don't feel strong. I just feel like myself....in severe pain. It's day-to-day living now. I try not to plan too far in advance.
If I can't find a way to decrease my pain level before I have a child, I cannot be the kind of mom I want to be. I physically could not handle the sleep deprivation that comes with a newborn; less sleep = more pain. I would be glued to the couch, not on the floor playing with my baby or walking around to soothe her at night. I couldn't take her for walks in the stroller or teach her to ride a bike. I would have trouble attending her soccer games; sitting up for a couple of hours hurts too much. Worst of all, I could not be the emotionally supportive, stable, fun type of mom I want to be. It would not be possible.
The decision not to TTC is easier knowing that adoption is a possibility. But even if adoption wasn't on the table and our remaining option was childfree living, I would have to choose childfree living over TTC. Why in the world would I choose *possibly* having severe pain the rest of my life? My (hopefully) future children would be worse off for it, my family and husband would struggle with me, and I would constantly fight the pain demon.
When I started this post, I'd intended to write even more, tell you about how in my previous incarnation, I ran a half marathon at an 8:10 min/mile pace. Now I can hardly walk a mile once a week. I'd wanted to tell you that I do still grieve for the loss of my husband's and my biological child, the little blonde boy who looks like his dad. Also, I could write for days about how you don't know until you've been there what kind of decisions you'd make when you've had pain that reaches an 8 every day, sometimes staying there for hours at a time. And it goes on for months and months, possibly years. But I've written enough for now.
For all of these reasons, I will never pursue pregnancy again. I love myself too much and won't knowingly put myself in harm's way. I want more out of life than appointments, pills, and this seemingly endless gnawing, burning pain that is trying to eat me alive.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Singing, Cooking, and...Adopting?
Yesterday I heard something weird: my voice, singing in the car with the radio. It happened again today.
It's little things like this, realizing that I haven't sung in the car for months, that make me appreciate how shitty the past few months have been. But this week has been different. I think I've turned a corner, guys.
Last week was the worst one, emotionally speaking, in quite a while. Cried to my pelvic pain doc for 20 minutes on the phone. Sent tearful emails to my psychiatrist. Insomnia.
I was still in a really bad place this past Monday, but everything shifted slightly on Monday evening. I made myself cook dinner and realized the pain had decreased. Tuesday was even better and I cooked dinner again—shocking. The relief has continued, which is the longest stretch I've felt better in many months.
For the record, it still sucks. My TENS unit is keeping me sane; we're going steady again since I overcame some trust issues. I'm still not doing any physical activity to speak of, but I've at least rejoined my coworkers' lunchtime walking group for a few minutes before I have to turn around.
Not surprisingly, my mood has improved significantly. Fewer problems sleeping, etc.
Oh, and I almost forgot to explain what I think is responsible for my improvement: my physical therapist. After our initial sessions, I was afraid she was killing me because I felt worse. Then we figured out it was probably because our initial sessions coincided with my Pill trial (epic fail), so PT was probably not to blame. I stuck with it, seeing my therapist weekly, and her treatment last week (internal pressure points, if that's not TMI) was a revelation. My pain was worse for a couple of days, which is to be expected, but then it was better than it'd been in months.
Please cross your fingers with me that this improvement lasts. I feel like I'm starting to get my life back again and am desperately clinging to it.
*****
In the midst of last week's depression, my husband and I met again with our local adoption resource. I can't say much more about the resource without divulging my location, but if you want more info, feel free to email me (see my "Contact" tab).
The meeting restored my hope that we can do this, that this can really happen for us. The couple, who are adoptive parents themselves, gave us tons of information about the adoption process, from first steps to the legal paperwork after the baby is born. The information on initial steps was key because I've been flailing, not researching anything at all because I've felt too overwhelmed (and, well, consumed by pain).
So, first up is getting fingerprinted. The couple told us where to go to have it done...we can do this. I have to keep repeating that to myself.
The hubster is not 100% on the adoption train yet but is game to start the process. If (or, as I'm telling myself, "once") we commit to adopting, it will help if some of the initial time-consuming steps are out of the way.
I've been telling more people what we've been going through, from infertility to chronic pain to possibly adoption. Nothing like a TENS unit stuck to my hip to shred any last bit of secrecy. I've been happy to share more, though.
I am getting a lot of people telling me that adoption is wonderful and, well, you know what's coming: "Who knows, you might get pregnant in the meantime!" Or that adopting doesn't mean that we can't pursue a bio baby later, since I'm "only" 35 (in my head, it's "35 is so close to death, and maybe I'll grow old and die before I can raise a child!" and that type of hysteria). I tell people that I'm pretty convinced that a bio baby is out of the question, though, and that we'll be actively preventing pregnancy. This usually leads to looks of confusion.
I need to write a whole post about why I don't want to pursue getting pregnant ever again, starting with seven months (217 days) of severe pain. Post will include 2 miscarriages and my desire never to go through that again. I'm not saying I'm incapable of changing my mind, but with each passing day of pain, and time off from TTC and all the BS that accompanies it, I'm more and more certain.
It's little things like this, realizing that I haven't sung in the car for months, that make me appreciate how shitty the past few months have been. But this week has been different. I think I've turned a corner, guys.
Last week was the worst one, emotionally speaking, in quite a while. Cried to my pelvic pain doc for 20 minutes on the phone. Sent tearful emails to my psychiatrist. Insomnia.
I was still in a really bad place this past Monday, but everything shifted slightly on Monday evening. I made myself cook dinner and realized the pain had decreased. Tuesday was even better and I cooked dinner again—shocking. The relief has continued, which is the longest stretch I've felt better in many months.
For the record, it still sucks. My TENS unit is keeping me sane; we're going steady again since I overcame some trust issues. I'm still not doing any physical activity to speak of, but I've at least rejoined my coworkers' lunchtime walking group for a few minutes before I have to turn around.
Not surprisingly, my mood has improved significantly. Fewer problems sleeping, etc.
Oh, and I almost forgot to explain what I think is responsible for my improvement: my physical therapist. After our initial sessions, I was afraid she was killing me because I felt worse. Then we figured out it was probably because our initial sessions coincided with my Pill trial (epic fail), so PT was probably not to blame. I stuck with it, seeing my therapist weekly, and her treatment last week (internal pressure points, if that's not TMI) was a revelation. My pain was worse for a couple of days, which is to be expected, but then it was better than it'd been in months.
Please cross your fingers with me that this improvement lasts. I feel like I'm starting to get my life back again and am desperately clinging to it.
*****
In the midst of last week's depression, my husband and I met again with our local adoption resource. I can't say much more about the resource without divulging my location, but if you want more info, feel free to email me (see my "Contact" tab).
The meeting restored my hope that we can do this, that this can really happen for us. The couple, who are adoptive parents themselves, gave us tons of information about the adoption process, from first steps to the legal paperwork after the baby is born. The information on initial steps was key because I've been flailing, not researching anything at all because I've felt too overwhelmed (and, well, consumed by pain).
So, first up is getting fingerprinted. The couple told us where to go to have it done...we can do this. I have to keep repeating that to myself.
The hubster is not 100% on the adoption train yet but is game to start the process. If (or, as I'm telling myself, "once") we commit to adopting, it will help if some of the initial time-consuming steps are out of the way.
I've been telling more people what we've been going through, from infertility to chronic pain to possibly adoption. Nothing like a TENS unit stuck to my hip to shred any last bit of secrecy. I've been happy to share more, though.
I am getting a lot of people telling me that adoption is wonderful and, well, you know what's coming: "Who knows, you might get pregnant in the meantime!" Or that adopting doesn't mean that we can't pursue a bio baby later, since I'm "only" 35 (in my head, it's "35 is so close to death, and maybe I'll grow old and die before I can raise a child!" and that type of hysteria). I tell people that I'm pretty convinced that a bio baby is out of the question, though, and that we'll be actively preventing pregnancy. This usually leads to looks of confusion.
I need to write a whole post about why I don't want to pursue getting pregnant ever again, starting with seven months (217 days) of severe pain. Post will include 2 miscarriages and my desire never to go through that again. I'm not saying I'm incapable of changing my mind, but with each passing day of pain, and time off from TTC and all the BS that accompanies it, I'm more and more certain.
Monday, October 1, 2012
TENS Love Gone Bad
Let's complain about treatments, shall we? I'm so tired of them—the endless medications, PT appointments that take a large chunk out of my working day, and my new less-than-awesome TENS unit.
TENS is weird. At first I raved about it, profusely thanking my dad for sending me his unit and believing it would be life-changing. Now I'm not so sure. I think it does have some effect, but I think the initial high from it was actually a result of a good myofascial releasing PT session. Not that my dad still doesn't deserve thanks.
There are four sticky pads with electrodes that I put on my lower abdomen. Wires connect these to the unit. Long wires; part of what makes it unwieldy. The unit itself can clip to your belt and looks kinda like a pager circa 1995, if pagers then were huge and tan-colored. It's quite a bit larger than a cell phone.
I can use the unit at work or when I'm out and about at other places, but people definitely see it. At first I wore long cardigans that kinda covered it, but made me look like my right hip had a box-shaped tumor. Now I'm saying "screw it" and not bothering to cover it up, but it feels awkward. I'm not really sure yet how I'll answer questions about it.
TENS feels like an almost pleasant buzzy sensation. There are various settings, and my sweet spot is between an amplitude of 2 or 3 (out of 8). If I accidentally hit 3, I feel like my pelvis is being electrocuted and I think I've seen the muscles actually jump. Not keen on repeating this for fun. If it's at 2, I seem to get no therapeutic benefit. Has to be riiiiight at 3.78 or whatever and my OCDness makes me constantly adjust it. Doesn't help that the muscles get used to a setting and then require a higher one.
In addition to looking like I'm a 90's era drug dealer who's checking pages constantly, I sometimes flash people my electrodes. I'm pretty sure the cashier at the grocery store today saw a sticky pad in the process of falling off. The damn things will not stay on unless I tape them with medical tape. The adhesive on the medical tape makes me welt up and itch; as of 5 years ago, I'm allergic to anything resembling a Band-Aid.
Moving on to meds. I sooo wish I could stop taking all of them, just taper off and not look back. Go to acupuncture and massage and hot stone treatments once a day (each) and meditate the rest of the day. Unfortunately, that's not my life. I have a desk job and sitting compresses some key nerves, make my nerve issues worse. I'm finding ways to work around it, but avoiding sitting entirely hasn't cured me, either. If I could find SOMETHING, some magic fix that did not involve 4 hours of PT/day, I would do it.
In the meantime, I take meds. I've decided I'm really tired of Lyrica. We increased my dose recently because I think it does help the pain, but I'm so sleepy now. All. the. time. With my doctor's blessing, I tried going back down to my previous dose over the weekend, but my pain flared and I decided I'd have to cope with sleepiness on the higher dose.
I've been having horrible headaches lately. I've never been a headachey kind of person; never had a migraine (knock on wood—I know I'm very lucky), really only have headaches when I'm coming off caffeine. My theory about the recent headaches is that the neuropathic pain has made its way to my brain and is eating it from the inside out. Or possibly something less dramatic. I've been having less neuropathic pelvic pain, but the neuropathic stuff has been making its way up my torso for some time now, giving me an aching burning sensation in the middle of my body. And after the core pain started, my headaches started. So the pelvic disease is spreading.
It is indeed really weird how pelvic pain can leech out and invade YOUR ENTIRE BODY. I'm capping because it is really freaking dramatic how horrible it can make your life. And when I treat the pelvic pain by putting TENS electrodes on my abdomen, I can often make my headache go away. So freaky.
I've written a lot of posts in my head lately that haven't made it here, and one is about body image. Of course, mine took a big hit with having the low-functioning ovaries of someone 5 years older than I, a ute with multiple issues, and endo that invaded my abdomen. Now I also have to hate my pelvic floor muscles, which were body parts I'd never thought about before this. Yay.
*****
As I read back over this post, written earlier in the afternoon, I'm amazed I was able to have any kind of sense of humor in it. It's been a rough day. I'm gonna have my husband drive me to work for a couple of days because driving is hard. It's hard to concentrate when you're in pain, when Lyrica is making you tired, and sitting up is an issue. At least I tilt my seat back if my husband drives me.
I think what's scaring me so much right now is the prospect of another flare. It's reminiscent of my fear in the years following my first episode of severe depression. Every sad mood, every PMS moment, every break-up, was cause for alarm that another severe depressive episode was starting. These days, a few bad pain days in a row freaks me out. I can't do the flare thing anymore. What if it starts, how will I cope with more missed work, how long will it last, how much will it put everything else in my life on hold, like adoption...
I've started meditating daily again. I'm proud that I found room for it in my schedule; it's nice to be back to it. Also, the guilt from not doing it was intense. I'm putting a lot of pressure on myself to meditate the pain away, or do enough of some alternative treatment that will make everything ok. I feel addicted to TENS (which in itself isn't a huge problem, as long as you take breaks periodically), I feel slightly panicked that I don't see my PT again until Friday...everything is worse now, too, because I haven't been sleeping well. Working with my psychiatrist to get that worked out.
Another thing to feel guilty about: we still haven't finished the DVD from the adoption agency we're interested in. I just haven't had the energy, or I've had too much energy; when I've felt good since my last flare, I just wanted to be doing fun or immediately productive things. Adoption is daunting. I think my goal for this week, knowing that we're meeting with our adoption resource couple this Sat, is to let myself off the hook for watching this DVD. I just need to make it through the week and it will be fine if we don't watch the DVD.
In less depressing news, Homeland is amazing and highly addictive. Will temporarily take the place of Breaking Bad until the new BB season comes out on DVD. Saw The Hunger Games for the third time on Friday, which was maybe two viewings more than I needed to see this year. Love it but not three times/year love it. Our DVR hates us and has not been recording Project Runway recently. Dislike.
Ok, signing off!
TENS is weird. At first I raved about it, profusely thanking my dad for sending me his unit and believing it would be life-changing. Now I'm not so sure. I think it does have some effect, but I think the initial high from it was actually a result of a good myofascial releasing PT session. Not that my dad still doesn't deserve thanks.
There are four sticky pads with electrodes that I put on my lower abdomen. Wires connect these to the unit. Long wires; part of what makes it unwieldy. The unit itself can clip to your belt and looks kinda like a pager circa 1995, if pagers then were huge and tan-colored. It's quite a bit larger than a cell phone.
I can use the unit at work or when I'm out and about at other places, but people definitely see it. At first I wore long cardigans that kinda covered it, but made me look like my right hip had a box-shaped tumor. Now I'm saying "screw it" and not bothering to cover it up, but it feels awkward. I'm not really sure yet how I'll answer questions about it.
TENS feels like an almost pleasant buzzy sensation. There are various settings, and my sweet spot is between an amplitude of 2 or 3 (out of 8). If I accidentally hit 3, I feel like my pelvis is being electrocuted and I think I've seen the muscles actually jump. Not keen on repeating this for fun. If it's at 2, I seem to get no therapeutic benefit. Has to be riiiiight at 3.78 or whatever and my OCDness makes me constantly adjust it. Doesn't help that the muscles get used to a setting and then require a higher one.
In addition to looking like I'm a 90's era drug dealer who's checking pages constantly, I sometimes flash people my electrodes. I'm pretty sure the cashier at the grocery store today saw a sticky pad in the process of falling off. The damn things will not stay on unless I tape them with medical tape. The adhesive on the medical tape makes me welt up and itch; as of 5 years ago, I'm allergic to anything resembling a Band-Aid.
Moving on to meds. I sooo wish I could stop taking all of them, just taper off and not look back. Go to acupuncture and massage and hot stone treatments once a day (each) and meditate the rest of the day. Unfortunately, that's not my life. I have a desk job and sitting compresses some key nerves, make my nerve issues worse. I'm finding ways to work around it, but avoiding sitting entirely hasn't cured me, either. If I could find SOMETHING, some magic fix that did not involve 4 hours of PT/day, I would do it.
In the meantime, I take meds. I've decided I'm really tired of Lyrica. We increased my dose recently because I think it does help the pain, but I'm so sleepy now. All. the. time. With my doctor's blessing, I tried going back down to my previous dose over the weekend, but my pain flared and I decided I'd have to cope with sleepiness on the higher dose.
I've been having horrible headaches lately. I've never been a headachey kind of person; never had a migraine (knock on wood—I know I'm very lucky), really only have headaches when I'm coming off caffeine. My theory about the recent headaches is that the neuropathic pain has made its way to my brain and is eating it from the inside out. Or possibly something less dramatic. I've been having less neuropathic pelvic pain, but the neuropathic stuff has been making its way up my torso for some time now, giving me an aching burning sensation in the middle of my body. And after the core pain started, my headaches started. So the pelvic disease is spreading.
It is indeed really weird how pelvic pain can leech out and invade YOUR ENTIRE BODY. I'm capping because it is really freaking dramatic how horrible it can make your life. And when I treat the pelvic pain by putting TENS electrodes on my abdomen, I can often make my headache go away. So freaky.
I've written a lot of posts in my head lately that haven't made it here, and one is about body image. Of course, mine took a big hit with having the low-functioning ovaries of someone 5 years older than I, a ute with multiple issues, and endo that invaded my abdomen. Now I also have to hate my pelvic floor muscles, which were body parts I'd never thought about before this. Yay.
*****
As I read back over this post, written earlier in the afternoon, I'm amazed I was able to have any kind of sense of humor in it. It's been a rough day. I'm gonna have my husband drive me to work for a couple of days because driving is hard. It's hard to concentrate when you're in pain, when Lyrica is making you tired, and sitting up is an issue. At least I tilt my seat back if my husband drives me.
I think what's scaring me so much right now is the prospect of another flare. It's reminiscent of my fear in the years following my first episode of severe depression. Every sad mood, every PMS moment, every break-up, was cause for alarm that another severe depressive episode was starting. These days, a few bad pain days in a row freaks me out. I can't do the flare thing anymore. What if it starts, how will I cope with more missed work, how long will it last, how much will it put everything else in my life on hold, like adoption...
I've started meditating daily again. I'm proud that I found room for it in my schedule; it's nice to be back to it. Also, the guilt from not doing it was intense. I'm putting a lot of pressure on myself to meditate the pain away, or do enough of some alternative treatment that will make everything ok. I feel addicted to TENS (which in itself isn't a huge problem, as long as you take breaks periodically), I feel slightly panicked that I don't see my PT again until Friday...everything is worse now, too, because I haven't been sleeping well. Working with my psychiatrist to get that worked out.
Another thing to feel guilty about: we still haven't finished the DVD from the adoption agency we're interested in. I just haven't had the energy, or I've had too much energy; when I've felt good since my last flare, I just wanted to be doing fun or immediately productive things. Adoption is daunting. I think my goal for this week, knowing that we're meeting with our adoption resource couple this Sat, is to let myself off the hook for watching this DVD. I just need to make it through the week and it will be fine if we don't watch the DVD.
In less depressing news, Homeland is amazing and highly addictive. Will temporarily take the place of Breaking Bad until the new BB season comes out on DVD. Saw The Hunger Games for the third time on Friday, which was maybe two viewings more than I needed to see this year. Love it but not three times/year love it. Our DVR hates us and has not been recording Project Runway recently. Dislike.
Ok, signing off!
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Good-bye, Pregnancy Clothes!
I got rid of them. You know, the clothes that aren't maternity per se, but have been a little too big for you for the past 5 years? The ones you know will be great for the first tri? They're gone.
Feels great to be free of them. I've been in a weird space lately: inspired by our adoption research to start nesting, which sometimes means buying stuff, and also wanting to give a ton of away. Make room for the stuff we're really gonna use.
For the record, the friend I gave my clothes to is only a size larger than I. I think being on the Pill brings me to that size, but seeing as me and Pill do not mix (HATE), I felt good about freeing those clothes to a better home. It reminds me of how Tom & Lorenzo (fashion blog) frequently say "Girl, that's not your dress. Let it be free for some other girl to buy." The 9 pairs of pants I gave away looked so awesome on my friend.
To go with the nesting and hence spending money trend, we're getting a housecleaning service. This is huge. I'd been fantasizing about having one after we had a kid or two. We'll both be working outside the home then, and it seemed like a good place to put some money for the sake of my sanity. But then this illness started ("illness" sounds more interesting than "pain episode"...and I'm just sick of writing "pain") and the house has gotten grungier and grungier. I physically can't do the cleaning, and the hubster has very different standards (read: no standards), and I don't want to get into a nagging, resentful cycle with him when I ask him to do something.
The initial cleaning is next week, just in time for a house guest who's coming in for one night, and also in time for our second meeting with our local adoption resource. They adoptive couple is coming over and giving us more info about how to get started. I have to admit, I'm having a really hard time doing anything about adoption lately and I'm hoping this meeting jump-starts me. My husband and I are halfway through a video we received from an adoption broker, but the last time we watched any of it was weeks ago. I blame the illness (pain, whatev).
I'm going to PT every week now and I think it's helping. Learned how to use a TENS unit today; it's a little device with electrodes that stick on you and stimulate your muscles. So that by stimulating them, they somehow relearn how to relax. I don't get it but it does seem to be helping. Luckily, my dad had a TENS he sent to me, so I don't have to worry about insurance covering a personal unit or not.
I started taking unsanctioned turmeric. Usually, I'm wary of supplements unless my doctor and I are both very comfortable with them, but I just up and started taking this. Turmeric is a spice often used in curried dishes, and it's thought to have anti-inflammatory (and maybe antioxidant?) properties. The amount I'm taking daily could easily be equivalent to how much I ingested daily if I ate as much Indian food as I wish I was eating, so I'm just not worried. My internet research yielded nothing alarming. My mom swears by turmeric for her arthritis, which was a huge burden before she started taking it.
I'm in a pretty good place emotionally. It's CD1, which is a blessing in my current circumstances, as weird as it is to say as a long-time TTCer. It now means that all the PMSy, crampy horribleness will be over in a few days and I *should* have a couple of weeks of relief after that, even if relief these days means only slightly less pain.
I'm optimistic, though. PT will help; it has to. And my need to hold my adopted baby is getting stronger and stronger as my pain gets more manageable, so I see us making some progress there. Hold me accountable! :)
Feels great to be free of them. I've been in a weird space lately: inspired by our adoption research to start nesting, which sometimes means buying stuff, and also wanting to give a ton of away. Make room for the stuff we're really gonna use.
For the record, the friend I gave my clothes to is only a size larger than I. I think being on the Pill brings me to that size, but seeing as me and Pill do not mix (HATE), I felt good about freeing those clothes to a better home. It reminds me of how Tom & Lorenzo (fashion blog) frequently say "Girl, that's not your dress. Let it be free for some other girl to buy." The 9 pairs of pants I gave away looked so awesome on my friend.
To go with the nesting and hence spending money trend, we're getting a housecleaning service. This is huge. I'd been fantasizing about having one after we had a kid or two. We'll both be working outside the home then, and it seemed like a good place to put some money for the sake of my sanity. But then this illness started ("illness" sounds more interesting than "pain episode"...and I'm just sick of writing "pain") and the house has gotten grungier and grungier. I physically can't do the cleaning, and the hubster has very different standards (read: no standards), and I don't want to get into a nagging, resentful cycle with him when I ask him to do something.
The initial cleaning is next week, just in time for a house guest who's coming in for one night, and also in time for our second meeting with our local adoption resource. They adoptive couple is coming over and giving us more info about how to get started. I have to admit, I'm having a really hard time doing anything about adoption lately and I'm hoping this meeting jump-starts me. My husband and I are halfway through a video we received from an adoption broker, but the last time we watched any of it was weeks ago. I blame the illness (pain, whatev).
I'm going to PT every week now and I think it's helping. Learned how to use a TENS unit today; it's a little device with electrodes that stick on you and stimulate your muscles. So that by stimulating them, they somehow relearn how to relax. I don't get it but it does seem to be helping. Luckily, my dad had a TENS he sent to me, so I don't have to worry about insurance covering a personal unit or not.
I started taking unsanctioned turmeric. Usually, I'm wary of supplements unless my doctor and I are both very comfortable with them, but I just up and started taking this. Turmeric is a spice often used in curried dishes, and it's thought to have anti-inflammatory (and maybe antioxidant?) properties. The amount I'm taking daily could easily be equivalent to how much I ingested daily if I ate as much Indian food as I wish I was eating, so I'm just not worried. My internet research yielded nothing alarming. My mom swears by turmeric for her arthritis, which was a huge burden before she started taking it.
I'm in a pretty good place emotionally. It's CD1, which is a blessing in my current circumstances, as weird as it is to say as a long-time TTCer. It now means that all the PMSy, crampy horribleness will be over in a few days and I *should* have a couple of weeks of relief after that, even if relief these days means only slightly less pain.
I'm optimistic, though. PT will help; it has to. And my need to hold my adopted baby is getting stronger and stronger as my pain gets more manageable, so I see us making some progress there. Hold me accountable! :)
Monday, September 17, 2012
Manly Monday: Studly and Smart
I'm participating in Stupid Stork's Manly Monday, so today I'll introduce you to my husband, a gregarious hottie who is the best husband in the world. Not that I'm biased. Here are a few things about him.
- He is a brainiac. Valedictorian in high school, PhD at a leading university in a highly challenging field, and overall genius. You'd think that being so good at the PhD subject would limit his brain's capacity for other areas, but no. He has a wide variety of interests and is well-versed in everything from music ("I believe this is Schubert's 8th piano concerto") to carpentry ("I'll put in a cross-beam there so the force on the supporting I-beam will not be too great"). He ends up teaching me a lot.
- A twist to his personality is that in contrast to his massive cerebral content, he has a horrible memory. He says it's only horrible for minutiae, but I wonder why remembering key points about me from our first date qualifies as minutiae. He will never live this one down. On the first date, he asked me the basics, or at least the basics if you are straightforward and not playing games: what do you want to do after grad school, do you plan to stay in the area, do you want kids (yes, he asked that!). Then, on the second date, he asked me the exact same questions. As the date went on, I became more and more deflated. I thought he had forgotten everything because I was just one of many match.com dates and he couldn't be bothered to remember my specifics. By the end of the night, we were making out, so I had renewed faith that he must like me.
- He has an incredibly goofy side and constantly makes me giggle. We often make crack each other up by making up words or nicknames for things. TV shows become Breakie Baddie, 'Resty (Arrested Development), Dancey (So You Think You Can Dance). If you were a fly on our wall, you'd be gagging with the cuteness so we have to tone it down around other people.
- He's disarmingly cute and has the sexiest voice ever. He can charm and talk to anyone; he's the life of the party yang to my, um, good listener(?) yin.
- He's so good-looking and charismatic that even my 84-year-old grandmother flirts with him. She constantly reminds me how lucky I am, as in "how did you manage to snag him?" I laugh off the, uh, slight insult, and she's kinda right. He really is that special.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Fertility-free Friday: The $70 Wedding Dress
This is a story of true love for my now-husband and what happened when it collided with a trip to my shopping kryptonite, TJ Maxx.
I'll set the scene. My now-husband and I had been dating for 7 months. He'd recently seen me at my worst, through a relatively quick bout of severe depression, but most of our dating life was contented cuddling by the fire and romantic dinners. (And long walks on the beach. We did meet on match.com, and you have to like long walks on the beach to put your profile up.) I'll admit that our cuddling by the fire was actually sitting on a couch backed up to a faux fireplace in his apartment, where we watched 24 for hours. And the romantic dinners were usually pasta cooked at home. But we were madly in love.
We'd just flown out to spend some quality time with his parents, which was the first time I'd really spent any time with them. They apparently approved, and I believe they nudged him to seal the deal. Go, in-laws! :)
I *think* Now-Husband had brought up the topic of engagement rings before I made the fateful shopping trip. He had casually broached the topic, being intentionally vague and noncommittal (ie, "If you were someday going to get an engagement ring, what would you hypothetically like?"). I had immediately started freaking out inside, in a good way, but outwardly I kept my cool and rationally talked about what I might like in a ring. I'm a cool customer.
Soon after that, I saw an amazing wine-colored Vera Wang evening gown (not the wedding dress) at TJ Maxx. I thought I was in the market for evening gowns for some reason, although for the record, it still has the price tag on it 6 years later. It was, like the wedding-dress-to-be, $70, and I didn't buy it at first, but obsessed and even dreamed about it, so decided to go back for it. The Vera Wang was still there and it was mine. Score!
But wait. There were now several wedding dresses on the fancy dress rack. My TJ Maxx is quite the store, for sure, and probably better than yours. You can really find some great items. But I had never heard of or seen wedding dresses there, and have not seen or heard of them since. My mind started reeling with the possibilities.
These dresses were gorgeous. There were three in my size, some still in plastic wrapping and had probably never been tried on. They weren't brands I'd heard of, but I wouldn't have known what a good wedding dress brand was, anyway. They appeared to be really high quality. I tried them on.
Nothing quite prepares you for trying on wedding dresses in TJ Maxx before you're even engaged. You picture going to some bridal store with your sister and friends oohing and aahing over you. Or getting your mother's dress out of storage and trying it on for her (for the record, I'd tried my mother's dress and was too busty for it). I don't feel like I missed out on a necessary life experience, though...I've just got a different kind of story. As I tried on the dresses, I was on an adrenaline high and two of the dresses looked quite stunning, if I do say so myself. The one I was leaning toward was pretty low-cut, and I asked some random strangers in the fitting room if I was showing too much boob for a bride. "No way, girl! You gotta flaunt what you got!"
And that was how strangers provided that final nudge for me to buy my $70 wedding dress. I looked it up online afterward, and it was from an Australian designer who was no longer in business. From a few gowns I found for sale online, I estimated my dress to have a retail price of at least $1000-$1500. Yay me!
I got quite a few stares as I lugged the dress around TJ Maxx and rang it up. Even the cashier thought I was a bit crazy; apparently she hadn't seen their wedding collection yet. Or was just of the opinion that one should not purchase a wedding dress at TJ Maxx. We stuffed the dress awkwardly into two large TJ Maxx bags, one on each end of the dress. Of course, I bought the $70 wine Vera Wang, too.
When I got home, my roommate assured me I was out of my mind and told me I'd better not tell Now-Husband. It would freak him out and make him feel pressured. I thought about it for approximately one minute and because I can't keep a secret, called him and told him.
And what did he do? He laughed. He told me what a great deal it was and he couldn't wait to see it, but of course he couldn't yet because it'd be bad luck. We still weren't saying things like "when we get married" or even "when we get engaged," but I felt pretty safe after his reaction. He told me recently that the dress purchase scored major points for me; I wasn't high maintenance and didn't have expensive tastes, I'd stuffed the dress in the back of my old Honda Civic, which itself always had scored points for being such a practical car. (Side note: I'm ready for a fancier car and I'm high maintenance in entirely different ways. :) )
There are several morals to this story.
(This post was orginally planned for Manly Monday but ended up more of a Feminine Friday. Also, in the interest of editorial disclosure, I edited the first sentence of this after I posted it because it was bugging me.)
 |
| My "oopsie" dress |
I'll set the scene. My now-husband and I had been dating for 7 months. He'd recently seen me at my worst, through a relatively quick bout of severe depression, but most of our dating life was contented cuddling by the fire and romantic dinners. (And long walks on the beach. We did meet on match.com, and you have to like long walks on the beach to put your profile up.) I'll admit that our cuddling by the fire was actually sitting on a couch backed up to a faux fireplace in his apartment, where we watched 24 for hours. And the romantic dinners were usually pasta cooked at home. But we were madly in love.
We'd just flown out to spend some quality time with his parents, which was the first time I'd really spent any time with them. They apparently approved, and I believe they nudged him to seal the deal. Go, in-laws! :)
I *think* Now-Husband had brought up the topic of engagement rings before I made the fateful shopping trip. He had casually broached the topic, being intentionally vague and noncommittal (ie, "If you were someday going to get an engagement ring, what would you hypothetically like?"). I had immediately started freaking out inside, in a good way, but outwardly I kept my cool and rationally talked about what I might like in a ring. I'm a cool customer.
Soon after that, I saw an amazing wine-colored Vera Wang evening gown (not the wedding dress) at TJ Maxx. I thought I was in the market for evening gowns for some reason, although for the record, it still has the price tag on it 6 years later. It was, like the wedding-dress-to-be, $70, and I didn't buy it at first, but obsessed and even dreamed about it, so decided to go back for it. The Vera Wang was still there and it was mine. Score!
 |
| The gateway dress. It's not photogenic without a wearer, apparently. Trust me, it's gorgeous. |
 |
| The boobs don't actually look weird like they do here. |
 |
| I'm not exactly a label hound, but...Vera Wang! $70! |
But wait. There were now several wedding dresses on the fancy dress rack. My TJ Maxx is quite the store, for sure, and probably better than yours. You can really find some great items. But I had never heard of or seen wedding dresses there, and have not seen or heard of them since. My mind started reeling with the possibilities.
These dresses were gorgeous. There were three in my size, some still in plastic wrapping and had probably never been tried on. They weren't brands I'd heard of, but I wouldn't have known what a good wedding dress brand was, anyway. They appeared to be really high quality. I tried them on.
Nothing quite prepares you for trying on wedding dresses in TJ Maxx before you're even engaged. You picture going to some bridal store with your sister and friends oohing and aahing over you. Or getting your mother's dress out of storage and trying it on for her (for the record, I'd tried my mother's dress and was too busty for it). I don't feel like I missed out on a necessary life experience, though...I've just got a different kind of story. As I tried on the dresses, I was on an adrenaline high and two of the dresses looked quite stunning, if I do say so myself. The one I was leaning toward was pretty low-cut, and I asked some random strangers in the fitting room if I was showing too much boob for a bride. "No way, girl! You gotta flaunt what you got!"
And that was how strangers provided that final nudge for me to buy my $70 wedding dress. I looked it up online afterward, and it was from an Australian designer who was no longer in business. From a few gowns I found for sale online, I estimated my dress to have a retail price of at least $1000-$1500. Yay me!
I got quite a few stares as I lugged the dress around TJ Maxx and rang it up. Even the cashier thought I was a bit crazy; apparently she hadn't seen their wedding collection yet. Or was just of the opinion that one should not purchase a wedding dress at TJ Maxx. We stuffed the dress awkwardly into two large TJ Maxx bags, one on each end of the dress. Of course, I bought the $70 wine Vera Wang, too.
When I got home, my roommate assured me I was out of my mind and told me I'd better not tell Now-Husband. It would freak him out and make him feel pressured. I thought about it for approximately one minute and because I can't keep a secret, called him and told him.
And what did he do? He laughed. He told me what a great deal it was and he couldn't wait to see it, but of course he couldn't yet because it'd be bad luck. We still weren't saying things like "when we get married" or even "when we get engaged," but I felt pretty safe after his reaction. He told me recently that the dress purchase scored major points for me; I wasn't high maintenance and didn't have expensive tastes, I'd stuffed the dress in the back of my old Honda Civic, which itself always had scored points for being such a practical car. (Side note: I'm ready for a fancier car and I'm high maintenance in entirely different ways. :) )
There are several morals to this story.
- My TJ Maxx is life-altering. If you come visit me, I will take you there and you'll come out with something wonderful. It just might not be exactly what you'd been looking for.
- If you don't have a significant other and want one, I have two words for you: internet dating.
- Dating rules are meant to be broken. Live a little. Sometimes you might think you have it all figured out and find the perfect sundress to be proposed to in, only to have the guy not propose (a story for another time; that guy is not my husband). And then one day everything will click and the rules won't matter anymore.
(This post was orginally planned for Manly Monday but ended up more of a Feminine Friday. Also, in the interest of editorial disclosure, I edited the first sentence of this after I posted it because it was bugging me.)
Thursday, September 13, 2012
"OB Is If You're Pregnant"
Funny but true story: In the midst of my latest pain flare, angry about not receiving enough attention, I called the hospital operator to get in touch with the on-call doc. This was our conversation.
Me: Hi, I need to get in touch with the doctor on call for OB/GYN, I think. But the department I actually go to is—
Operator: Your name?
Me: Detour from Detour to Motherhood. (ok, I gave him my real name). But I'm not actually sure I need OB/GYN because—
Operator: Do you need OB or GYN? OB is if you're pregnant and GYN is if you're not.
Me: Really? I had no idea of the difference! I guess that would make me...GYN! Thanks!
I didn't actually say that last line but wanted to. The operator didn't want to know that the doctors I actually see are in the Department of Women with Screwed-up Uteri and General Pelvic Dysfunction (ok, not the real name...want to protect my location), and wasn't sure if OB/GYN was what I really needed. But thanks for the tip about OB being relevant if you're pregnant. I had no idea!
I spoke to GYN and she was indeed the correct doc for me to call. But I'm still irritated that my personal doctor wasn't more responsive during that time. And that the operator didn't let me get a word in edgewise.
*****
Had anothertorture PT session yesterday. My physical therapist is so amazing. I really hope she isn't causing flares because she's just so friendly, intelligent, and knowledgeable. And bubbly. I would totally want to be friends with her outside of PT if she didn't mind hanging out with an old fogey. She's younger, maybe late 20's.
Anyway, she tried to be gentle yesterday and so far the aftermath has been mixed. Last night was rough; in general, I've been having more problems sleeping because of the pain, and I was up a lot. Today isn't too bad...yet. Fingers crossed.
Last night I bought a cute wide-brimmed straw hat to wear on walks. I hope I get a chance to wear it before it turns into wool cap weather. Several months ago, a bunch of my coworkers started taking walks during lunchtime, and I can sometimes join them for the first 200 yards. <eye roll> I miss the time with them and am jealous they get to exercise, gossip about work, and just...bond. My job is pretty solitary and I can spend all day barely speaking to anyone. It drives me a little cray-cray...too much alone time.
In my blogging news, I'm going to take part in Stupid Stork's Manly Mondays. I love reading everyone's and am ready to spill the beans about how my husband, before we were even engaged, reacted when I told him I'd just bought a wedding dress. For $70 from TJ Maxx, incidentally. Yes, I have atrashy thrifty, bargain-hunting side and couldn't resist it, even though he and I had hardly talked at all about engagement and had only been dating for 7 months. Whee!
Almost Friday...c'mon, weekend!
Me: Hi, I need to get in touch with the doctor on call for OB/GYN, I think. But the department I actually go to is—
Operator: Your name?
Me: Detour from Detour to Motherhood. (ok, I gave him my real name). But I'm not actually sure I need OB/GYN because—
Operator: Do you need OB or GYN? OB is if you're pregnant and GYN is if you're not.
Me: Really? I had no idea of the difference! I guess that would make me...GYN! Thanks!
I didn't actually say that last line but wanted to. The operator didn't want to know that the doctors I actually see are in the Department of Women with Screwed-up Uteri and General Pelvic Dysfunction (ok, not the real name...want to protect my location), and wasn't sure if OB/GYN was what I really needed. But thanks for the tip about OB being relevant if you're pregnant. I had no idea!
I spoke to GYN and she was indeed the correct doc for me to call. But I'm still irritated that my personal doctor wasn't more responsive during that time. And that the operator didn't let me get a word in edgewise.
*****
Had another
Anyway, she tried to be gentle yesterday and so far the aftermath has been mixed. Last night was rough; in general, I've been having more problems sleeping because of the pain, and I was up a lot. Today isn't too bad...yet. Fingers crossed.
Last night I bought a cute wide-brimmed straw hat to wear on walks. I hope I get a chance to wear it before it turns into wool cap weather. Several months ago, a bunch of my coworkers started taking walks during lunchtime, and I can sometimes join them for the first 200 yards. <eye roll> I miss the time with them and am jealous they get to exercise, gossip about work, and just...bond. My job is pretty solitary and I can spend all day barely speaking to anyone. It drives me a little cray-cray...too much alone time.
In my blogging news, I'm going to take part in Stupid Stork's Manly Mondays. I love reading everyone's and am ready to spill the beans about how my husband, before we were even engaged, reacted when I told him I'd just bought a wedding dress. For $70 from TJ Maxx, incidentally. Yes, I have a
Almost Friday...c'mon, weekend!
Monday, September 10, 2012
Wherein Dr. Fourth Opinion Tells Me to Spaz Down
Had my long-awaited appointment today with Dr. Fourth Opinion today, the appointment I probably pinned way too many hopes and dreams to. I just want him to fix me; that's not too much to ask, right?
He redeemed himself from his status on my shit list and I once again think he's a good doctor. We talked a lot, a lot about long-range goals, short-range goals, what to do when I'm having a flare. His answer to that last one surprised me. He doesn't want to call him if I'm flaring. Wha?? He says these flares are normal and that I need to learn how to cope with them on my own, throwing in another reminder about anxiety management.
I wonder if he talks as much to his other patients about anxiety reduction or if he's decided I'm a stressball. I totally have a chip on my shoulder; I feel like as soon as physicians see that I'm taking Prozac and Ambien, they decide to give me The Talk, the one where they tell me (as if I've never heard of these things) that I need to be using other alternative modalities, ie, meditation. And I do practice meditation and I think I'm doing a bunch of other things to reduce my stress level, although there's room for improvement.
During my appointment today, we got into a circular discussion where he'd tell me to make sure I keep my psychiatrist in the loop and keep up those alternate therapies, and I'd somewhat miss the point and throw in a "but, how do I not freak out during a flare?" "By keeping up with these other therapies." "But what about when the flare is really bad?" Etc. And I felt a little ridiculous, but this has been my life lately. I've missed a ton of work, can barely function, and am just getting back to the point where I can reliably drive myself to and from work. I guess the point is that my case isn't that unusual. Dr. FO has seen tons of us, some of us for really long periods of time, it seems. I'm not going to die from this, even though I swear, I thought I would at some points during the last few weeks.
Oh, and as predicted, Dr. FO held his position that the Pill did not cause my flare. Interesting that he's so convinced and I'm so convinced the other way. Oh, well. It does suck that I'll have to deal with painful periods every month, instead of once every 10 weeks, but I'll take a few days of cramps over the incapacitating flares.
I wish we did still have the Pill as our means of birth control, though. Apparently I'm not a candidate for anything—my RE says that absolutely, under no circumstances should I ever get an IUD. (I concur). I don't want to do any other pills with estrogen, and Dr. FO doesn't recommend the progestin options. I guess there's always vasectomy (I'm sure as hell not going to have more surgery), but that seems so...final. A little too final for now.
So, the pain plan for now is focused on PT. My PT wants to try TENS this week, which is some kind of electrical stimulation. If it reduces my pain, I might get a unit for home use. Dr. FO also increased my Lyrica dose, so we'll see if that does anything. He tweaked some of my other meds and I'm happy with how we left things.
So. Lots more appointments in my future. PT, biweekly sessions or possibly weekly if my body can handle it. Psychiatrist for spazzing down lessons (which I had plenty of in my Alice Domar-modeled IF group therapy last year...I am schooled already). Follow-up with Dr. FO in 6 weeks. Fun-ish appointments with adoptive couples to help us make some progress in that direction.
I just remembered that I think I wrote a post a while back about a doc telling me to spaz down. I feel the need to add the disclaimer that the docs aren't using those words; Dr. FO is genuinely trying to help and exploring lots of options with me. I'm just touchy about them saying meditation etc will heal all ills. It's in the "just relax" category for me, even though I know there's truth to it in the case of my pain. I've come SO FAR in reducing my anxiety in the past year and I need lots of credit for that. Shout out to Prozac, meditating, and friends.
Whew. So that was that. Onwards with kicking pain's butt!
He redeemed himself from his status on my shit list and I once again think he's a good doctor. We talked a lot, a lot about long-range goals, short-range goals, what to do when I'm having a flare. His answer to that last one surprised me. He doesn't want to call him if I'm flaring. Wha?? He says these flares are normal and that I need to learn how to cope with them on my own, throwing in another reminder about anxiety management.
I wonder if he talks as much to his other patients about anxiety reduction or if he's decided I'm a stressball. I totally have a chip on my shoulder; I feel like as soon as physicians see that I'm taking Prozac and Ambien, they decide to give me The Talk, the one where they tell me (as if I've never heard of these things) that I need to be using other alternative modalities, ie, meditation. And I do practice meditation and I think I'm doing a bunch of other things to reduce my stress level, although there's room for improvement.
During my appointment today, we got into a circular discussion where he'd tell me to make sure I keep my psychiatrist in the loop and keep up those alternate therapies, and I'd somewhat miss the point and throw in a "but, how do I not freak out during a flare?" "By keeping up with these other therapies." "But what about when the flare is really bad?" Etc. And I felt a little ridiculous, but this has been my life lately. I've missed a ton of work, can barely function, and am just getting back to the point where I can reliably drive myself to and from work. I guess the point is that my case isn't that unusual. Dr. FO has seen tons of us, some of us for really long periods of time, it seems. I'm not going to die from this, even though I swear, I thought I would at some points during the last few weeks.
Oh, and as predicted, Dr. FO held his position that the Pill did not cause my flare. Interesting that he's so convinced and I'm so convinced the other way. Oh, well. It does suck that I'll have to deal with painful periods every month, instead of once every 10 weeks, but I'll take a few days of cramps over the incapacitating flares.
I wish we did still have the Pill as our means of birth control, though. Apparently I'm not a candidate for anything—my RE says that absolutely, under no circumstances should I ever get an IUD. (I concur). I don't want to do any other pills with estrogen, and Dr. FO doesn't recommend the progestin options. I guess there's always vasectomy (I'm sure as hell not going to have more surgery), but that seems so...final. A little too final for now.
So, the pain plan for now is focused on PT. My PT wants to try TENS this week, which is some kind of electrical stimulation. If it reduces my pain, I might get a unit for home use. Dr. FO also increased my Lyrica dose, so we'll see if that does anything. He tweaked some of my other meds and I'm happy with how we left things.
So. Lots more appointments in my future. PT, biweekly sessions or possibly weekly if my body can handle it. Psychiatrist for spazzing down lessons (which I had plenty of in my Alice Domar-modeled IF group therapy last year...I am schooled already). Follow-up with Dr. FO in 6 weeks. Fun-ish appointments with adoptive couples to help us make some progress in that direction.
I just remembered that I think I wrote a post a while back about a doc telling me to spaz down. I feel the need to add the disclaimer that the docs aren't using those words; Dr. FO is genuinely trying to help and exploring lots of options with me. I'm just touchy about them saying meditation etc will heal all ills. It's in the "just relax" category for me, even though I know there's truth to it in the case of my pain. I've come SO FAR in reducing my anxiety in the past year and I need lots of credit for that. Shout out to Prozac, meditating, and friends.
Whew. So that was that. Onwards with kicking pain's butt!
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Rejoining the Land of the Living
I think the pain flare is ending, thank God. Two weeks of barely hanging on, constantly wondering if the ER would be at least more comfortable, trying to shower regularly and maintain a full-time job...it was exhausting.
Unable to get in touch with my Dr. Fourth Opinion on Tues, I made the executive decision to stop taking the Pill. He didn't think it was causing the flare and Dr. Third Opinion hadn't thought my last Pill adventure was the cause for the last bad flare, but the flares happened with uncannily similar timing from the day I started the Pill. I'm officially done with it for now and done with their professional opinions about that matter. Hmph.
I started feeling better within a day or two of stopping the Pill, and now I feel almost back to my regular, pre-flare level of yuckiness. It feels AMAZING. I ran errands for 3 full hours yesterday and swept my front porch today and have felt the foreign sensation of actually feeling happy. Who knew my fairly high baseline pain level could feel like such a relief.
I have an appointment with Dr. Fourth Opinion tomorrow and I don't even know where to start with him. I'm disappointed in how long it takes him to get back to me, and sometimes he gets his nurse to do the call-backs, meaning I can't ask him questions. I need to know what to do when the pain is so bad I'm considering going to the ER....every day for 2 weeks straight. I need somebody on my side.
My PT was great this week, though. I couldn't make it to our session because I was laid up at home, but she facilitated communications with my doctor about how to proceed with treatment. I don't think her sessions are really to blame for the flares, after all; lots of data point to the Pill instead.
*****
After weeks of not uttering a word about adoption to my husband, I broached the topic again today. It was so nice to feel like I could talk about it again, like I have the tiny bit of leftover emotional energy to invest in the discussion. I wasn't able to think about it for weeks—just no emotion to spare.
Right before we left for the beach last month, we met with a local couple who is an excellent adoption resource. Had a terrific conversation with them and plan to talk with them some more soon. They told us they'll provide guidance on what to do next, how to proceed with research, which is exactly what we need.
*****
Worried about getting through this work week since I'm still not completely functional, but at least I have a very understanding boss and a flexible work-from-home policy. I tell my boss I'm having health issues and he doesn't ask questions...I don't really want to get into the whole dysfunctional woman parts convo with him.
Hope you guys have had a nice weekend!
Unable to get in touch with my Dr. Fourth Opinion on Tues, I made the executive decision to stop taking the Pill. He didn't think it was causing the flare and Dr. Third Opinion hadn't thought my last Pill adventure was the cause for the last bad flare, but the flares happened with uncannily similar timing from the day I started the Pill. I'm officially done with it for now and done with their professional opinions about that matter. Hmph.
I started feeling better within a day or two of stopping the Pill, and now I feel almost back to my regular, pre-flare level of yuckiness. It feels AMAZING. I ran errands for 3 full hours yesterday and swept my front porch today and have felt the foreign sensation of actually feeling happy. Who knew my fairly high baseline pain level could feel like such a relief.
I have an appointment with Dr. Fourth Opinion tomorrow and I don't even know where to start with him. I'm disappointed in how long it takes him to get back to me, and sometimes he gets his nurse to do the call-backs, meaning I can't ask him questions. I need to know what to do when the pain is so bad I'm considering going to the ER....every day for 2 weeks straight. I need somebody on my side.
My PT was great this week, though. I couldn't make it to our session because I was laid up at home, but she facilitated communications with my doctor about how to proceed with treatment. I don't think her sessions are really to blame for the flares, after all; lots of data point to the Pill instead.
*****
After weeks of not uttering a word about adoption to my husband, I broached the topic again today. It was so nice to feel like I could talk about it again, like I have the tiny bit of leftover emotional energy to invest in the discussion. I wasn't able to think about it for weeks—just no emotion to spare.
Right before we left for the beach last month, we met with a local couple who is an excellent adoption resource. Had a terrific conversation with them and plan to talk with them some more soon. They told us they'll provide guidance on what to do next, how to proceed with research, which is exactly what we need.
*****
Worried about getting through this work week since I'm still not completely functional, but at least I have a very understanding boss and a flexible work-from-home policy. I tell my boss I'm having health issues and he doesn't ask questions...I don't really want to get into the whole dysfunctional woman parts convo with him.
Hope you guys have had a nice weekend!
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Survival Mode
So, the last few days happened. It's been a horrible week. I made it into work a few hours here and there but made a big dent in my remaining sick hours.
I'm scared. The pain has been intense, baseline around 7 or 8. Climbs up to 9 frequently. Makes me want to go to the hospital to get morphine, but I know that would only be temporary and then they'd send me home again to deal with this for who knows how much longer.
My PT appointment on Wednesday aggravated everything. She assured me she wouldn't be rough, that everything she did would be gentle and non-inflammatory. But it wasn't. She is awesome—super sharp, knowledgeable, and decisive. And just fun to be around, as fun as someone who mildly tortures you can be. But she is killing me, inflaming my pain to the point where I miss days of work, and I don't know what to do. Not going to her leaves me in pain. Going to her makes the pain worse with the hope that it will speed up the healing process.
It's been hard for me to function normally, so my husband is picking up the slack. He's been putting meals together, walking the dog, etc. But it's not enough, and I feel like a brat for saying that. He picked up some extra work this morning and I was livid when he told me last night. I need him badly, need him to cook even more, buy more groceries, and start to do some cleaning. I need him here. So, we had that discussion. I hadn't realized how much I wasn't telling him what I needed.
Today I'm trying the "lying perfectly still" technique, moving as minimally as possible to not aggravate my body further. I've had mixed results with this in the past, so we'll see how it goes. (ETA: I suck at lying perfectly still. I'm doing some PT and other stretches although I'm not convinced they're always good for me.) In addition to pain both burning and dull, I'm having nausea and headaches, I think as a result of tapering off the amitriptyline. It is a great combination.
I hate being in survival mode. There is so much I want to do, even boring stuff like laundry. I don't know how to make myself better and have no idea when this will end. When I'm being unrealistic, I can fool myself into thinking I'll be drastically better tomorrow, but then I give myself a reality check. Big improvements haven't happened in ages. If I'm being honest with myself, my pain level is the same as it was the week after my surgery in March. The type of pain is a little different but who knows if one type signals healing more than another.
I'm exhausted. I had a few minutes this morning when I felt like I could write decent comments to some blogs, but that ability left me quickly.
Adding insult to injury is side effects from the Pill: acne, sore boobs, and weight gain. Or maybe the weight gain is from Lyrica. Whatever it's from, I'm not a fan. Weight is not usually an issue for me; lack of appetite is. Suddenly, I have a great appetite but no ability to exercise it off. My husband brought home 8 cupcakes last night that someone at work had given him, which does not help my situation.
I don't want to alarm you with how bad the pain is. It probably sounds like I should call my doctor or get to the ER. However, I've been going through this for a while and tried that. I've had CT scans and ultrasounds and nothing life-threatening is going on. It's just utterly miserable and they're doing all they can to fix me. The pain shouldn't be as bad as it is, but apparently I'm the freakish outlier who has to deal with it.
Send me good vibes that I at least get a shower today.
I'm scared. The pain has been intense, baseline around 7 or 8. Climbs up to 9 frequently. Makes me want to go to the hospital to get morphine, but I know that would only be temporary and then they'd send me home again to deal with this for who knows how much longer.
My PT appointment on Wednesday aggravated everything. She assured me she wouldn't be rough, that everything she did would be gentle and non-inflammatory. But it wasn't. She is awesome—super sharp, knowledgeable, and decisive. And just fun to be around, as fun as someone who mildly tortures you can be. But she is killing me, inflaming my pain to the point where I miss days of work, and I don't know what to do. Not going to her leaves me in pain. Going to her makes the pain worse with the hope that it will speed up the healing process.
It's been hard for me to function normally, so my husband is picking up the slack. He's been putting meals together, walking the dog, etc. But it's not enough, and I feel like a brat for saying that. He picked up some extra work this morning and I was livid when he told me last night. I need him badly, need him to cook even more, buy more groceries, and start to do some cleaning. I need him here. So, we had that discussion. I hadn't realized how much I wasn't telling him what I needed.
Today I'm trying the "lying perfectly still" technique, moving as minimally as possible to not aggravate my body further. I've had mixed results with this in the past, so we'll see how it goes. (ETA: I suck at lying perfectly still. I'm doing some PT and other stretches although I'm not convinced they're always good for me.) In addition to pain both burning and dull, I'm having nausea and headaches, I think as a result of tapering off the amitriptyline. It is a great combination.
I hate being in survival mode. There is so much I want to do, even boring stuff like laundry. I don't know how to make myself better and have no idea when this will end. When I'm being unrealistic, I can fool myself into thinking I'll be drastically better tomorrow, but then I give myself a reality check. Big improvements haven't happened in ages. If I'm being honest with myself, my pain level is the same as it was the week after my surgery in March. The type of pain is a little different but who knows if one type signals healing more than another.
I'm exhausted. I had a few minutes this morning when I felt like I could write decent comments to some blogs, but that ability left me quickly.
Adding insult to injury is side effects from the Pill: acne, sore boobs, and weight gain. Or maybe the weight gain is from Lyrica. Whatever it's from, I'm not a fan. Weight is not usually an issue for me; lack of appetite is. Suddenly, I have a great appetite but no ability to exercise it off. My husband brought home 8 cupcakes last night that someone at work had given him, which does not help my situation.
I don't want to alarm you with how bad the pain is. It probably sounds like I should call my doctor or get to the ER. However, I've been going through this for a while and tried that. I've had CT scans and ultrasounds and nothing life-threatening is going on. It's just utterly miserable and they're doing all they can to fix me. The pain shouldn't be as bad as it is, but apparently I'm the freakish outlier who has to deal with it.
Send me good vibes that I at least get a shower today.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Make It Stop
Consuming.
That's the word that keeps coming to mind in the past couple of days. The pain consumes me, eats me up. Not much is left behind.
Last Wednesday was the best day, pain-wise, that I've had in months. I went to PT that day and she did "skin rolling," which she said might leave me sore. I've been in agony since Friday. I'm not sure if it was the PT or some other thing that did me in. It's followed the same general 24-hour cycle it's done in the past—mornings are tolerable and afternoons I contemplate going to the ER. It's reduced me to a monosyllabic, glazed-over zombie the past few days. Worse than usual.
Sometimes it feels like a horrible stomachache and I try to pacify it with food. It's become a rather bad habit, feeding an ache that doesn't really need food. I don't know what it needs.
Right now it feels like my entire pelvis is burning, pain level about an 8. If I zone out and kinda become one with the pain, I can feel it take over my entire abdomen, burning a line through my core, out my arms, and leaving my head foggy and achy. My legs have been spared for now.
I'm forcing myself to blog because I need to get out some of my angst. The thought of composing an email to a friend or talking to a family member is overwhelming...no ability to concentrate on conversation or care about anyone else's problems.
It feels very indulgent, this hyperfocusing on myself. I know that might sound ridiculous, yeah, I can't control much about the pain. But when it goes on for 6 solid months, it feels horribly egocentric and my world feels very small.
I want to make a quick list of things I want to do when I get better, things I'm afraid I won't appreciate or take the opportunity to do once I'm able. I want to hold myself accountable. Here goes: I want to run again. I want to go to a yoga class. I want to have my little nieces and nephews over for a slumber party. I want to walk around the neighborhood. I want the pharmacist's cashiers to forget my name (ok, not a goal but a wish nonetheless).
I'm doing everything right. I'm doing my what my PT says, taking soothing baths, meditating, doing diaphragmatic breathing. It is still hard to keep the panic at bay, and I don't see how anyone could stay calm through this. It just creeps in, little voices telling me it might not get better, maybe this is the new normal. Maybe I will always be too sick to raise a child.
I haven't responded to comments from my last post—sorry. My infertility therapist is actually required by her workplace to have a certain percentage of her patients be IF patients. I don't feel betrayed or anything; she doesn't really have a choice. I'm fine with it mostly, just a little sad.
I'm taking the amitriptyline at night. The nurse recommended experimenting with taking it at dinnertime to see if that helped with drowsiness the next day, and it hasn't. I think I'm officially done with this med. I don't think it's helping and the sleepiness is horrible. I doubt multiple cups of coffee a day is helping the pain.
When I take a pain medication, I get some relief for about an hour. Tonight I took it around dinnertime and actually talked to my husband. He's been getting a lot of "don't talk to me but find something for us to eat" the past few days.
I'm scared. When I feel the pain in new places, when the pain in my core seems to reach up through my chest and into my jaw and teeth, it's hard not to worry.
That's the word that keeps coming to mind in the past couple of days. The pain consumes me, eats me up. Not much is left behind.
Last Wednesday was the best day, pain-wise, that I've had in months. I went to PT that day and she did "skin rolling," which she said might leave me sore. I've been in agony since Friday. I'm not sure if it was the PT or some other thing that did me in. It's followed the same general 24-hour cycle it's done in the past—mornings are tolerable and afternoons I contemplate going to the ER. It's reduced me to a monosyllabic, glazed-over zombie the past few days. Worse than usual.
Sometimes it feels like a horrible stomachache and I try to pacify it with food. It's become a rather bad habit, feeding an ache that doesn't really need food. I don't know what it needs.
Right now it feels like my entire pelvis is burning, pain level about an 8. If I zone out and kinda become one with the pain, I can feel it take over my entire abdomen, burning a line through my core, out my arms, and leaving my head foggy and achy. My legs have been spared for now.
I'm forcing myself to blog because I need to get out some of my angst. The thought of composing an email to a friend or talking to a family member is overwhelming...no ability to concentrate on conversation or care about anyone else's problems.
It feels very indulgent, this hyperfocusing on myself. I know that might sound ridiculous, yeah, I can't control much about the pain. But when it goes on for 6 solid months, it feels horribly egocentric and my world feels very small.
I want to make a quick list of things I want to do when I get better, things I'm afraid I won't appreciate or take the opportunity to do once I'm able. I want to hold myself accountable. Here goes: I want to run again. I want to go to a yoga class. I want to have my little nieces and nephews over for a slumber party. I want to walk around the neighborhood. I want the pharmacist's cashiers to forget my name (ok, not a goal but a wish nonetheless).
I'm doing everything right. I'm doing my what my PT says, taking soothing baths, meditating, doing diaphragmatic breathing. It is still hard to keep the panic at bay, and I don't see how anyone could stay calm through this. It just creeps in, little voices telling me it might not get better, maybe this is the new normal. Maybe I will always be too sick to raise a child.
I haven't responded to comments from my last post—sorry. My infertility therapist is actually required by her workplace to have a certain percentage of her patients be IF patients. I don't feel betrayed or anything; she doesn't really have a choice. I'm fine with it mostly, just a little sad.
I'm taking the amitriptyline at night. The nurse recommended experimenting with taking it at dinnertime to see if that helped with drowsiness the next day, and it hasn't. I think I'm officially done with this med. I don't think it's helping and the sleepiness is horrible. I doubt multiple cups of coffee a day is helping the pain.
When I take a pain medication, I get some relief for about an hour. Tonight I took it around dinnertime and actually talked to my husband. He's been getting a lot of "don't talk to me but find something for us to eat" the past few days.
I'm scared. When I feel the pain in new places, when the pain in my core seems to reach up through my chest and into my jaw and teeth, it's hard not to worry.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Somnolence, A Break-up, and Books
Y'all, I'm sleepy.
Side note: I consciously made myself write "y'all" instead of "you guys" or some other y'all alternative. My non-Southern college friends cultivated the "y'all" out of me (I'm Southern) but I'm trying to get it back. I just like the way it sounds.
Back to being sleepy. The amitriptyline (trycyclic antidepressant) is kicking my butt. I am SO, so drowsy all the time, but not actually tired. I don't yawn and can't fall asleep before my normal bedtime. But when my alarm goes off in the morning, the struggle to stay alert begins. And it is a fight.
I'm trying to get in touch with my doctor to see if there's a different med I can try. I don't know if the amitriptyline is even helping, so maybe he'll just wean me off of it.
*****
My therapist is dumping me. She tried to soften the blow by saying we'd slowly see each other less over time, that she wasn't making a clean break. And all the usual "it's not you, it's me" stuff. Since she specializes in patients seeking infertility treatment, I'm no longer in her wheelhouse. I think she's required to primarily see infertility patients. It makes me a little sadder than I expected. She's really helped me through all of this.
However, my psychiatrist will not be dumping me. She specializes in pregnancy and women who are nursing, but she has room in her practice for a two-time pregnancy FAIL survivor. I've been seeing her for medication management, and maybe I'll transition to seeing her for talk therapy, too.
*****
In the past year, I've read several books that are memoirs of infertiles or novels with strong infertility/loss/adoption currents throughout, and some stand out as my favorites. I'm not too coherent now and am never literary enough to write a proper review, so I'll just list 'em.
It turns out that you need to be awake to do almost anything. Work, drive, blog. I'm up to three or four cups of coffee a day and it barely touches my sleepiness. Ugh. I am reading your blogs and would comment if I could formulate thoughts. I promise to be a better bloggie friend.
Have a nice weekend!
Side note: I consciously made myself write "y'all" instead of "you guys" or some other y'all alternative. My non-Southern college friends cultivated the "y'all" out of me (I'm Southern) but I'm trying to get it back. I just like the way it sounds.
Back to being sleepy. The amitriptyline (trycyclic antidepressant) is kicking my butt. I am SO, so drowsy all the time, but not actually tired. I don't yawn and can't fall asleep before my normal bedtime. But when my alarm goes off in the morning, the struggle to stay alert begins. And it is a fight.
I'm trying to get in touch with my doctor to see if there's a different med I can try. I don't know if the amitriptyline is even helping, so maybe he'll just wean me off of it.
*****
My therapist is dumping me. She tried to soften the blow by saying we'd slowly see each other less over time, that she wasn't making a clean break. And all the usual "it's not you, it's me" stuff. Since she specializes in patients seeking infertility treatment, I'm no longer in her wheelhouse. I think she's required to primarily see infertility patients. It makes me a little sadder than I expected. She's really helped me through all of this.
However, my psychiatrist will not be dumping me. She specializes in pregnancy and women who are nursing, but she has room in her practice for a two-time pregnancy FAIL survivor. I've been seeing her for medication management, and maybe I'll transition to seeing her for talk therapy, too.
*****
In the past year, I've read several books that are memoirs of infertiles or novels with strong infertility/loss/adoption currents throughout, and some stand out as my favorites. I'm not too coherent now and am never literary enough to write a proper review, so I'll just list 'em.
- Life from Scratch by Melissa Ford. Ok, this is not a book about infertility, but Melissa Ford is the web hostess of the largest network of infertiles around: Stirrup Queens. Her novel is excellent and many passages are simply beautiful, ones I would have highlighted if I'd known how to on my Kindle.
- The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards. I strongly recommend this to women feeling like no one can relate to their loss. Edwards explores loss so thoughtfully and she really, truly gets it.
- State of Wonder by Ann Patchett. Patchett is one of my faves. She wrote Bel Canto, and while I couldn't decide what I thought about that one, her others have knocked my socks off. Like Bel Canto, State of Wonder has slowly building suspense. The settings are so vivid that I felt them, saw them, and smelled them. The infertility theme in this is subtle at first, but keep reading and you won't regret it.
- Run by Ann Patchett. Two brothers in this novel are adopted, which is an important aspect of the book. I love Ann Patchett for passages like this: The ache in his ankle was like an angry conversation coming from another room, something persistent, irritated, abstracted, something you should get up and take care of but for whatever reason you don't. I connected strongly with that.
- The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Patchett. I'm on an Ann Patchett kick, can you tell? This novel is about a woman who goes to a home for unwed mothers in the 1960's.
- Good Eggs: A Memoir by Phoebe Potts. I picked this up for a couple of bucks at Border's when they were going out of business (sad). When I got home with it and opened it for the first time, I realized it wasn't a book in the conventional sense. Instead of text, Potts uses cartoons to tell her infertility story. She drew me in right away and her personality, wit, and ability to convey emotions. Loved it.
- Waiting for Daisy by Peggy Orenstein. Another infertility memoir and her story is beautifully told. Loved it, too.
It turns out that you need to be awake to do almost anything. Work, drive, blog. I'm up to three or four cups of coffee a day and it barely touches my sleepiness. Ugh. I am reading your blogs and would comment if I could formulate thoughts. I promise to be a better bloggie friend.
Have a nice weekend!
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Hey...I've Been Here Before
At my infertility support group last year, the therapist had us write down some of our negative thoughts (eg, "Everyone around me is pregnant") and use cognitive restructuring on them (eg, not everyone around you is pregnant—your 60-year-old coworker isn't pregnant). I'm realizing that I'm in exactly the same place I was a year ago, except instead of infertility dominating my thoughts, it's pain. Both have a lot of unknowns, an almost complete lack of control, and a loss of faith in your body. And lots of negative thoughts.
Overgeneralization
Then (whilst TTC): "Everyone around me is pregnant."
Now (with pain): "Everyone around me can work out."
Wishful thinking (I think I made this one up)
Then: "If I try doing a handstand afterward I'll get pregnant!"
Now: "If I lie perfectly still for a week the pain will go away!"
Personalization
Then: "I didn't get pregnant last month because I ate a conventionally grown strawberry/struck the wrong yoga pose/drank a sip of coffee."
Now: "I screwed up my recovery by getting the mail/walking the dog/pulling a weed."
Fortune telling:
Then: "This cycle will be a bust because I only have one follicle."
Now: "The new physical therapist won't tell me anything new or helpful."
Catastrophizing
Then: "This will never end."
Now: "This will never end."
So, in terms of personal growth, at least I realize I'm having the exact same kinds of thoughts? Heh.
*****
One of the downsides of not being TTC is not knowing with laserlike precision when my period will come. I mean, I know on my Outlook calendar where I marked CD1 for my last period, but I don't know when I ovulated. I do know I'm well into PMS territory. I think my pain is picking up in preparation for Aunt Flo, making me even grumpier than usual.
I'm trying a monophasic Pill after this period arrives. When I took a triphasic one a few months ago, I got really weepy with all the pain, so I'm not too hopeful that this hormonal experiment will work.
The super fun experiment with my moods will most likely occur when I'm at the beach next week with my family. Lucky them!
*****
I wrote the above post last week—I'm at the beach now, which explains why I haven't been blogging and commenting. I'm also trying to get ready for a trip for work the day after I get back.
I won't start the Pill until we're back from the beach so my family is being spared the mood swings. Or at least they are being spared the Pill-related mood swings...they're all my own right now. And Pain's. Everyone is at the beach this morning except me. I'm hanging out at the beach house on CD2, with AF cramps added to my regularly-scheduled abdominal pain. Good times. Being here in pain beats being at work in pain, at least.
When I get back and work slows down a bit, I'll tell you about the adoption information session we attended. And about my great new physical therapist.
I just realized that my post title also reflects how yet again, my period has come in all its painful glory while I'm on vacation. Thanks for screwing up another vacation, period!
Overgeneralization
Then (whilst TTC): "Everyone around me is pregnant."
Now (with pain): "Everyone around me can work out."
Wishful thinking (I think I made this one up)
Then: "If I try doing a handstand afterward I'll get pregnant!"
Now: "If I lie perfectly still for a week the pain will go away!"
Personalization
Then: "I didn't get pregnant last month because I ate a conventionally grown strawberry/struck the wrong yoga pose/drank a sip of coffee."
Now: "I screwed up my recovery by getting the mail/walking the dog/pulling a weed."
Fortune telling:
Then: "This cycle will be a bust because I only have one follicle."
Now: "The new physical therapist won't tell me anything new or helpful."
Catastrophizing
Then: "This will never end."
Now: "This will never end."
So, in terms of personal growth, at least I realize I'm having the exact same kinds of thoughts? Heh.
*****
One of the downsides of not being TTC is not knowing with laserlike precision when my period will come. I mean, I know on my Outlook calendar where I marked CD1 for my last period, but I don't know when I ovulated. I do know I'm well into PMS territory. I think my pain is picking up in preparation for Aunt Flo, making me even grumpier than usual.
I'm trying a monophasic Pill after this period arrives. When I took a triphasic one a few months ago, I got really weepy with all the pain, so I'm not too hopeful that this hormonal experiment will work.
The super fun experiment with my moods will most likely occur when I'm at the beach next week with my family. Lucky them!
*****
I wrote the above post last week—I'm at the beach now, which explains why I haven't been blogging and commenting. I'm also trying to get ready for a trip for work the day after I get back.
I won't start the Pill until we're back from the beach so my family is being spared the mood swings. Or at least they are being spared the Pill-related mood swings...they're all my own right now. And Pain's. Everyone is at the beach this morning except me. I'm hanging out at the beach house on CD2, with AF cramps added to my regularly-scheduled abdominal pain. Good times. Being here in pain beats being at work in pain, at least.
When I get back and work slows down a bit, I'll tell you about the adoption information session we attended. And about my great new physical therapist.
I just realized that my post title also reflects how yet again, my period has come in all its painful glory while I'm on vacation. Thanks for screwing up another vacation, period!
Friday, August 3, 2012
Prediction: I Will Have Pain Tomorrow
After my surgery on 3/9, which I just realized was the ninth time my uterus had undergone an invasive procedure, I was optimistic. In severe pain, yes, but certain that my pain would get better tomorrow. Or after the balloon was removed. Or by my next period.
I've been at this long enough to realize that tomorrow is not the day that everything will suddenly improve. I will be in pain tomorrow. It might be less than today's, or more, but it will be there.
The ever-optimistic part of me gets faked out every morning, though, because I always feel best then. Following is a typical weekend day. I experimented a bit with Paint so you'll have to endure my attempts at artwork. I realize it looks like a 5-year-old drew it.
7 a.m.: Wake up feeling pretty good. All I need is some coffee and I'll be raring to go! I will do productive things like cleaning the floor and washing the dog!! (had not figured out how to draw thought bubbles yet)
10 a.m.: I will not be cleaning the floor.
noon: ...or washing the dog. The afternoon is looking bleak, at least for me. The dog is happy. And on the upside, I suddenly grew hair.
3 p.m.: My pain meds are completely inadequate. Lie around listlessly and complain to my husband. You can imagine what the stick figure would look like.
6 p.m.: Dinner and meds revive me somewhat.
10 p.m.: Severe pain. Must go to sleep to escape for a few hours.
That's pretty much every day. Well, at least weekend days—a stick person sitting at a desk was too difficult to draw.
The pain has changed locations a lot; it's tricksy like that. At first the worst area was burning below my ribcage. Then it became a dull pain lower in my abdomen, and now my entire lower abdomen is on fire. Lately the burning pain has been so severe that I feel it in the center of my body, where it radiates to weird places, like my lips. They'll feel like they're pulsating.
This probably sounds very depressing, and it is sometimes. But I'm ok. I've found ways to block out the pain and get on with my life. I'm not always successful, and when it's bad, I step back a bit and take a breather.
I don't want to end on a sad note....how about those Olympics? So excited that track and field starts today. I love watching swimming but I love running even more.
I've been at this long enough to realize that tomorrow is not the day that everything will suddenly improve. I will be in pain tomorrow. It might be less than today's, or more, but it will be there.
The ever-optimistic part of me gets faked out every morning, though, because I always feel best then. Following is a typical weekend day. I experimented a bit with Paint so you'll have to endure my attempts at artwork. I realize it looks like a 5-year-old drew it.
7 a.m.: Wake up feeling pretty good. All I need is some coffee and I'll be raring to go! I will do productive things like cleaning the floor and washing the dog!! (had not figured out how to draw thought bubbles yet)
10 a.m.: I will not be cleaning the floor.
noon: ...or washing the dog. The afternoon is looking bleak, at least for me. The dog is happy. And on the upside, I suddenly grew hair.
3 p.m.: My pain meds are completely inadequate. Lie around listlessly and complain to my husband. You can imagine what the stick figure would look like.
6 p.m.: Dinner and meds revive me somewhat.
10 p.m.: Severe pain. Must go to sleep to escape for a few hours.
That's pretty much every day. Well, at least weekend days—a stick person sitting at a desk was too difficult to draw.
The pain has changed locations a lot; it's tricksy like that. At first the worst area was burning below my ribcage. Then it became a dull pain lower in my abdomen, and now my entire lower abdomen is on fire. Lately the burning pain has been so severe that I feel it in the center of my body, where it radiates to weird places, like my lips. They'll feel like they're pulsating.
This probably sounds very depressing, and it is sometimes. But I'm ok. I've found ways to block out the pain and get on with my life. I'm not always successful, and when it's bad, I step back a bit and take a breather.
I don't want to end on a sad note....how about those Olympics? So excited that track and field starts today. I love watching swimming but I love running even more.
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