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.

Just Relaxing the Pain Away

Hey there!  I have been drowning in work lately and am missing my blog friends.  I very much appreciate some of you giving me blog awards, even though I'm not great at passing them along.  Thank you!!  Bloggers are really some of the nicest people out there.

So, my pain is....getting better!  FINALLY.  There have been huge improvements recently.  The pain doc increased my gabapentin dose and it's really helping.  Also, I went to my first physical therapy appointment last week and it was amazing.  The physical therapist spent a lot of time looking for the cause of my pain, be it a vertebral misalignment, pelvic floor muscle issue, etc.  She didn't quite find it, but gave me stretches and exercises for some problem areas.  I've been doing the PT religiously and it seems to be making a big difference.  Yesss!  I'm figuring out that taking a walk seems to trigger the pain but doing chores doesn't. Grrr. 

To add another doctor's appointment to the mix, since 14 appointments in 2 months may not be enough copays and missed work to satisfy me, I saw a psychologist last week to see if I'd be a good candidate for biofeedback.  The jury's still out on whether I would be or not—the psychologist is going to talk to my regular fertility therapist and come up with a plan.  The biofeedback psychologists were sure they could help me in some ways, though, even if it wasn't through biofeedback. 

And then they pissed me off.  They said my anxiety was contributing to the pain and we needed to get it under control.  I guess that's one of the general ideas behind biofeedback, so I shouldn't have been surprised to hear it.

Yes, I have a history of anxiety.  When I'm not taking SSRIs, I have panic attacks, some obsessive-compulsive tendencies, and a generally anxious mindset 24/7.  But I'm taking an SSRI now and am feeling pretty good emotionally, even with all of this pain crap.  I have moments when I'm depressed or anxious (and that's when I tend to blog, so you guys are seeing a lot of those moments), but am mostly ok.

So I'm confused.  I'm supposed to Just Relax?  Even if I'm already fairly relaxed?  It makes me think of the crazy time when I really thought Just Relaxing would get me pregnant.  I worked to achieve a Buddhist monk-like state of calmness for a long time after my first miscarriage.  For months and months, I did fertility yoga videos several times a week.  I meditated daily, practiced mindfulness all the freakin' time, and avoided potentially stressful situations.  And I didn't get pregnant until I gave up on relaxing and took letrozole.

That awful period of Just Relaxing has so many bad associations for me; I can't bear to do the fertility yoga or fertility meditations anymore.  They bring up way too many memories of crushed hope, failed cycle after failed cycle.  It turns out my body needed so much more to get and stay pregnant.

So I guess I get defensive when someone implies that I need to Just Relax, this time to help the pain.  I don't doubt there's ample clinical evidence of anxiety contributing to how you experience pain.  Totally makes sense.  I just don't think I'm very anxious right now.  So there.  /end rant

So, my next step on the road to a healthy pregnancy is a 3D sonogram, also known as a saline infusion sonogram.  I'm scheduled for one on Monday and am freaking out on many counts.  (Of course, these are healthy, normal freak-outs as opposed to pain-inducing anxiety attacks. :))  1)  What if this triggers another pain flare?  I have a call into my RE to discuss the wisdom of having the procedure this cycle as opposed to waiting one more cycle.  2)  What if there's something wrong?  I am pretty sure I will lose it if we see more scar tissue, septum issues, or polyps.

In addition to the 3D sono stress, I have a big work deadline on Tuesday.  If for some reason I'm in a ton of pain after the procedure, I could have major issues hitting my deadline.  Gonna work my butt off until the 3D sono to try to get ahead.

In infertility sadness-related news, why can't I anticipate which events/places will make my heart feel like it's breaking?  Went to my niece's and nephew's piano recital last weekend while I was PMSing, and seeing all the cute kids and parents made me want to weep.  I desperately want to attend all of my niece's and nephew's recitals or big games, but need to steel myself for them.  I'll be going to two dance recitals in June. 

For a moment at the piano recital, though, I wanted to protect myself from ever having to see that many kids and parents again in one place.  Avoidance can be fun!  I considered skipping my family beach trip this summer to avoid the hordes of children.  Last summer during the trip, I was pregnant.  This summer, in all likelihood, I'll start crying at the kid-filled outlet mall.  Good times.

Alright, back to work I go!

Closer to Fine: My Life on Prozac

I'm the first to admit that I'm not a happy-go-lucky kind of person.  Never have been, never will be.  I have a tendency toward melancholy and worry that probably starting showing in infancy.  What was diagnosed as colic or reflux was probably just my inner grump beginning to show. 

I took Prozac and similar medications, other selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), all through my 20's.  My dose was probably too low to be optimal in retrospect but I managed ok.  Whenever I'd try to taper off, sadness would return and I'd go right back on the pills.  Before we started trying to get pregnant, though, I was determined to taper off for good.  I didn't want to expose my baby to meds and that was that.

I stayed off of SSRIs for two full years while we struggled to get pregnant and suffered our first miscarriage (or, more accurately, suffered a miscarriage early in the process and then had trouble getting pregnant afterward).  The months after my first miscarriage were bleak.  Much to my surprise, I could function at work, showing up on time and even producing, while I was severely depressed.  All of my relationships suffered along with me, including my marriage.  Instead of having a partner, my husband had a shell of a person sitting next to him at dinner every night.   My misery and isolation were overwhelming.

The depression let up a little after several months but still lurked.  It came out in full force when I'd walk past pregnant women and racks of onesies at Target.  I thought that because I was functional—I could work and socialize and even fix my hair most days—I was having a normal response to infertility and loss.

Depression wasn't my only ghost.  I frequently had panic attacks but didn't know what they were.  Wouldn't any baby-crazed woman burst into tears when she realized hot baths were going to annihilate her husband's sperm?  Although I didn't recognize the panic attacks, I knew I felt hyped up and generally miserable all the time. 

I became a self-help junkie.  Listening to guided meditations calmed me down a little, so I meditated two or three times a day.  I practiced yoga and journaled.  I went to individual and group therapy.  I spent time with friends.  It all helped...a little.  I still felt oppressed by sadness and worry.

My husband and I started discussing my going back on medication.   He admitted he wasn't entirely sure I was depressed enough to take a medication, whatever "enough" means.   I wasn't entirely sure, either.  I wasn't down all the time.  I was able to enjoy things sometimes and smile and laugh.   But I felt like something had to change.  The happiness I fought to feel and project wasn't fooling anyone.  I felt like I was constantly fighting depression not to pull me under.  Acting normal, you know, like not bursting into tears when a pregnant woman walked by, was so hard.  I was so tired of the act.

Before I went on meds again, we agonized about the safety of taking SSRIs for a gestating or nursing baby.   After a long Q&A session with a pregnancy-specialized psychiatrist, we decided to go for it. 

The timing was perfect.  I started taking Prozac again last spring and had miscarriage #2 in the fall.  Grieving that loss was a completely different experience from the first one.  My heart still broke into a million pieces, but the backdrop of anxiety and depression was gone.  It's been four months since the miscarriage and I can honestly say I feel ok.   Not on top of the world, "I'm gonna have a baby in 8 months!," but pretty good.   No more 3 a.m. panic attacks.   No crying at the drop of a hat.   In other words, very, very different from how I felt after my last miscarriage.

The difference can't all be attributed to Prozac.  I've changed and adapted over time, too, thanks to tons of therapy and support from friends.  I think Prozac is making a significant contribution, though.

In an ideal world, we wouldn't take any medications at all, especially when we're pregnant.  However, living med-free isn't for me, at least for the time being and probably for the rest of my life.  Off meds, I constantly struggle to stay afloat.  On them, I can begin to believe that someday, this will all work out, and the present isn't such a horrible place, either.