Happy Tuesday

Hi world.

I miss you.

I haven't been writing in a long time, primarily because there's not much to say.

 I still work full-time at a job I love, I am still married to my best friend, and I am still totally inexplicably infertile.

It could be easy to be down on myself during such a seemingly stagnant period of my life, and while I do have my days where I feel utter frustration at my lack of progression, I'm also totally loving the peace I have recently been able to reach. 

Don't get me wrong--I still want a family. 

I still want to be a mother with every crumb of my soul. 

But I'm on the cusp of turning 26 years old, and while I've been told (for years) to just "enjoy" this time alone with my husband, I feel like I'm just now finally starting to do that. 

Maybe it's the financial (semi)stability. 

Maybe it's the sense of permanence I feel with my husband or my friends or my family. 

Or maybe this peace simply comes from within, from letting go of all of the things I can't control. 

Maybe it's an internal thing that just happens when you're staring your late twenties in the face.

 I don't know, guys. 

This is my first try at life. 

But whatever the reason, I'm so so glad that this peace is here with me.

I love this unpredictable boy and the joy he brings me every single day.

 

I love my imperfectly perfect body.

I love this crazy, chaotic life.

Maybe one day I'll have a baby.

Maybe one day I'll adopt one.

Maybe I won't.

The funny thing about life is that you never really know what's going to happen next, so you really have no other choice but to embrace the now and hope for the best. 

And isn't that all that anyone really needs? Right now?

Happy Tuesday, my friends.

XOXO,

Bryn

Fertility Drugs, Ultrasounds, and Unsinkable Hope

Hey all!

I had my ultrasound on Friday and wanted to update anyone who was curious. So, here's the deal: Femara=Awesome. At least, I liked it way better than Clomid. Femara's worst side effect was that I felt a little goofy after taking it. Like my equilibrium was off. So I just didn't drive within so many hours after taking it. That was a pain because my work hours vary, so I couldn't take the medication at the same time every day. Eventually, I moved the time I took it to right before bed, and that seemed to help. And the longer I took it, the less weird I felt after taking it. So that was that.

At my ultrasound on Friday, I got to take a peek at my eggs and saw that I have two mature ones (one was WAY mature, measuring something like 30mm), and there were three little ones, one at a 16 that may have had time to get big enough for fertilization, but it wasn't likely. In a nutshell, everything looked great!

Then came the freaky part. My doctor gave me a prescription for Ovidrel, the HCG shot that makes your body ovulate. The rationale behind the shot is that because it boosts your body full of hormones, it causes an increase in your progesterone production as well (and makes you ovulate). And if my issue is low progesterone, it may help that. Also, we were already planning on using it for my IUI. But if you missed it, my IUI was cancelled for this month because of our work schedules conflicting too much. Our schedules and hours really are terrible. It makes it very difficult to plan appointments in advance. But that's shift work for you! If infertility has taught me anything, it's that flexibility really is a necessity in life.

So, on Friday night around 9:00, I gave my stomach a good ol' alcohol cleaning, took a few deep breaths, chickened out, and made Josh stick me with the needle. I was too scared to do it myself. Surprisingly, the needle itself wasn't the part that hurt. It was preloaded with my prescription and everything, and the needle was really tiny. The injection hurt when I could feel it pushing into my stomach, but it wasn't terrible. The injection site has been sore and feels bruised, but that was it. I haven't felt any different or weird, but the insert for Ovidrel has the funniest side effects (gas, hiccups, uncontrollable bladder, etc.).

And that was it. And if you're wondering, having a doctor prescribe you with timed intercourse is about as sexy as it sounds... But, until next month, we'll do what we've got to do...

In other fun news, Josh's Clomid prescription has been upped to every day instead of every other day, and his mood swings remind me of my own. I feel bad that his pain causes my happiness, but how many women can honestly say that they know their husbands understand hormone-induced mood swings? I know mine does. And I feel for him because I get it too. We're a hormonal mess around this house right now, and that's okay. Somehow it works out.

And if this month doesn't work, guess what? We'll just try again next month. And we'll keep on trying until we decide to do something different. Right now I'm mentally prepared for three IUIs and no in-vitro, but we'll see. The crazy thing about this human existence is that we are always changing and growing and it never stops. If you're lucky enough to have a little baby, please give it a tight squeeze, kiss those chubby cheeks, and remember how lucky you are--how there are millions of people like me who would do anything to be in your shoes. Don't forget it. Your worst day is someone else's daydream. I'm just going to keep doing whatever I can to make my daydream a reality. And in the meantime? Please keep praying for us. We feel it in our lives every single day that you do. We love and appreciate all of it. Let's cross our fingers and toes and hope I have some good news in a few weeks!! And if I don't? Next month is still a blank slate and we'll figure it out as it goes. But I promise to keep you updated, as always!

-B

Understanding Infertility: the Shock of Pregnancy

Aunt Flo has been an unwelcome guest in my home once again. I'm horribly frustrated right now, especially because almost every good friend I have is currently expecting. Even friends who said it was my turn next. I guess they're starting to realize that I really can't control the fact that I am not getting pregnant. On the day that my "time of the month" began, I had two very good friends announce pregnancies to me within twenty four hours, and I won't lie--I didn't handle it well. I know I try to be positive on this page, and generally in life, but I'm going to be real today and discuss the raw emotions that come with infertility and how to deal with them. Because I honestly feel like the only thing worse than struggling with infertility is not understanding the struggle behind it.

When you announce to your infertile friends that you are expecting, there is a whirlwind of emotion that you bring. The first thing that pops into my head is complete shock. I know that pregnancy is typically more shocking for the people experiencing it, but I am always caught off guard about the whole pregnancy thing, especially when it's people who say they haven't been trying. Maybe I'll get used to it, but maybe not. It's always completely surprising when I hear the news, and I always have a few milliseconds of panicked shock.

Being caught off guard is really difficult because then I have to deal with all of my emotions that follow very quickly in order to stay friends. I go through the stages of grief because this child (and month) is not mine, and I only have about three seconds to do it: denialangerbargainingdepressionacceptanceCONGRATULATIONS! That's it. That's the time I have. If I am not congratulating and hugging and happy immediately, it's awkward. Because that's the expected response, and even though I am an anomaly, I still need to outwardly maintain my normal. And I really am happy for you. Kind of. But when I disappear for a few days (or weeks or months) don't take it personally. I just need time to deal with your happy news later, on my own terms.

Let's be real now. What happens when I am alone later? I usually cry. I hate talking about this, but your news makes me sad. I will never tell you how much I struggle with your news. How many hours I spend contemplating my own life and my own plans. How much self-assessment I perform in hopes of coming up with a solution to this awful, empty feeling inside my chest. I feel like there must be something I'm doing wrong. There must be something I haven't tried. My body cannot do what yours does so (seemingly) effortlessly. I feel forgotten because God is not allowing me to fulfill this righteous desire. Motherhood happens in all species, all over the world. It is the most natural thing there is. And I can't make it happen for me. I feel like a failure for being unable to achieve this most natural state. And that anger goes in all directions. Even towards me for making you feel guilty about your happiness. I know that you don't want to tell me. I know that you dread it. And even though it's difficult for me to hear, I'm always so glad when you do tell me.

This is kind of how the other night went for us. I'd just heard the second pregnancy announcement, and we'd quickly made our exit. We got in the car and drove for about a half hour in silence. Josh is in an awkward position because he wants to comfort me, but he's also dealing with his own grief, which I will never completely understand either. We are in the same boat, but we are both completely alone. We tried making small talk in the beginning of the drive, but I was in too much shock still. I felt numb and empty. I wanted to be home by myself. I didn't want to talk or see anyone or even think. I just wanted to be alone.

Josh turned on the radio to a station we don't listen to often, and song after song I knew. So I started singing. Imagine Dragons. The White Stripes. Anything and everything to get out this empty, aching sadness that was starting to consume me. My life feels like a giant cycle of grief. Month after month. Pregnancy after pregnancy. The always negative test, announcing "not pregnant" as loud and painful as a blow horn. But I am still so full of hope for next time. Maybe next time will work. Maybe at the next appointment they'll figure out what's really wrong with me. My existence is made up of a string of maybes. And, suddenly, we are at my sister's house, pulling behind her SUV in  her driveway. Her own badge of the children she shuttles back and forth from school to the store and home again. And, just as suddenly, I can't go inside. Through her front window, I see her husband watching TV, and I don't want to talk to anyone. Josh asks if I just want to come home with him, but I can't. I know that there's nothing better for me there than endless hours of meaningless TV and solitude. He asks me how I'm feeling, and I tell him I need to quit. I can't do this anymore. Month after month of heartache is too hard. I tell him I feel lost. I am so lost. I am forgotten and insignificant and lost. God doesn't see me. He doesn't hear me. My happy ending is not coming. I want to disappear. I want to go for a walk and never come back. I want to get lost and leave my phone and all of the worries and cares of the world and just disappear. I understand why people fake their deaths. I want to fly to Hawaii and live on the beach with the meth heads. I think that at some point I even said that I would go and be a meth head. I just have to get out of here. I have to get away from all of these people who want me to be happy and hopeful when I just can't. I just want to sing at the top of my lungs and run faster than I can and make my body hurt as much as my heart does right now at this moment. I used to cut myself when I was in high school and wanted to make my body hurt. I used to have a gym membership in college for when I needed to make my body hurt. And right then, at that moment, I didn't have an outlet for all of the hurt. I needed to hurt so I wouldn't cry. But I did anyway. And Josh cried with me. And we re-re-re-reassessed our options for the millionth time. Of course I didn't want to quit. I want to be a mother more than anything in the world. He told me I could go to Hawaii if I needed to. He said he could figure everything out for us. I think he's scared he's losing me. I think I'm scared of losing me. Eventually that anger turned into "we need to be more aggressive with this," which turned into talk about money. So many couples get pregnant for free. Why should it be so freaking expensive for the rest of us? We've already spent hundreds of dollars, and we still don't have any answers. I still don't feel any closer to figuring all of this out. I guess I need to make money in order to make this happen. I felt resolved with the new determination to be more aggressive with our fertility options, and I went inside.

More or less, this same conversation happens every few months. There are often hours of body-wracking sobs and feeling like a total boob for needing my husband to hold and comfort me while I cry. We often get into arguments that last hours or even days. I'm sad and hurt and feel so much guilt over the years I spent trying not to get pregnant. I feel guilty for the depression that ensues, because I know that nobody is trying to hurt me. I know that if they knew the deep-rooted sadness that consumes me, they would feel guilty and bad about their pregnancy (and probably towards me), and I really believe that every baby is a happy miracle that should be celebrated.

Friends, family, I love you. I love your children. I love that your lives are progressing and that you're having babies and families. And if it can't happen to me right now, I'm so glad it can happen for you. If you give me a few days, I'll be in a better mood and won't have to force my enthusiasm for you because I'll be genuinely excited for you. Because, under these ugly feelings I have right now, I really am so so happy for you.

Every cycle, I have a couple of days when I feel completely hopeless, and then I start right back up to being hopeful again. I'm starting my Clomid today, and maybe that will fix my body this month. Who knows? I'm reserving some skeptical hope for this month and next month and the next. If Clomid doesn't work, we'll move to IUI or IVF. We will keep trying. I always wanted a summer baby, and maybe I'll still get my wish. Because here I am, a couple of days later, feeling kind of better again. I feel hope, and I feel almost worthwhile. I don't feel forgotten the way I did. I know God is still there. I hope he helps me out this month, but I know better than to feel entitled to blessings right now. I'm even excited and happy for my friends. Infertility sucks, but I hope you understand it a little bit better now. I know I don't.

Surprise Doctor's Appointment: Already Finding Answers

Today was a crazy day. I thought that Josh had a doctor's appointment this morning to figure out if his swimmers were swimming straight, so we were up and out the door by 8:00 AM (which is a pretty big deal when you're not used to getting up until around 9). Even though the appointment was supposed to be brief and just for Josh, I made sure I went with him for support. When I showed up, we checked in and sat in the waiting room. We were at a reproductive health clinic, and the news playing on the television was of a baby who had survived being flushed down the toilet in China... I definitely felt like they should have had some other news on, just because I felt so much anger and sadness over the story. (I mean, come on! If you don't want your perfectly healthy baby, just give him to me, how about?!) Anyway, we were called back quickly, and I was glad to get away from that sad story.

Then came the funny part. I learned that this appointment was actually for me. I thought we were just meeting for a quick appointment for Josh, and I didn't even have time to get nervous or anything. Josh and I answered lots of health questions, and I really liked the nurse who helped us. She was young and very friendly, and I felt comfortable with her right away. When the doctor arrived, we answered some more questions and found out that today was the perfect day of my cycle to have an ultrasound and see if I had any cysts. That was actually really exciting for me. I've never had an ultrasound before, and I was hoping that a glance at my insides would give me some answers and hope.

It's funny--even though I knew with complete certainty that I was not pregnant, I still hoped to see a little something swimming around in my uterus. Sadly (but obviously), that wasn't the case. We were able to see that my uterus is retroflexed (which I already knew from previous pap smears) and that I have a uterus and two ovaries. We looked at my ovaries to see how big they were and were able to count lots of healthy-looking eggs in both of them. That was seriously the coolest thing ever. I have been failing to get pregnant for such a long time (about 26 months) that it was good to see and know that I do have healthy body parts that are capable of working together to build my family. It gave me so much hope, just seeing my eggs and thinking that one day one of those little things is going to be my baby. I almost cried, but then I felt dumb and didn't. I mean, I'm not even pregnant. I felt like it would be silly to cry about seeing the earliest photos of my zygotes that may, one day, turn into my children. It's just .... weird.

After my emotional ultrasound, I got dressed again, and the doctor gave me some interesting news. Apparently one of my tests from last week was abnormal. My doctor from last week had promised she'd call and tell me herself if any of my blood tests weren't normal, but she hadn't. So I found out today instead. That kind of threw me for a loop. Apparently my thyroid levels were abnormal. The doctor explained that it's an autoimmune disorder and that my body is attacking my thyroid, causing it to be in the early stages of shutting down. I won't lie--I was a little freaked out about that, but suddenly it all made sense: the endless exhaustion, the ongoing depression, the weight gain, and maybe the infertility? Suddenly, instead of feeling bummed out about my failing thyroid, I felt empowered and validated that there was proof of why I've been feeling crappy for such a long time. There was a physical reason that we could pinpoint explaining why I feel the way I do. That was kind of awesome.

After the appointment, I made another appointment for next week to have a sonohysterogram, to check my fallopian tubes and make sure my eggs are getting from point A to point B. I'm a little nervous about that, but mostly because Josh won't be able to come to that one with me. We also scheduled a time for Josh to really go in and get a reading on his sperm count. The hospital we go to is actually funding a study right now, so his testing will be totally free. Josh is hoping that we'll find his testosterone levels are low so that he'll be able to go on a prescribed hormone stimulator. He had blood tests today to figure that out, so we should know soon if that's a factor.

Anyway, sorry if this is a boring post. I feel like today was really exciting because we are finally getting some answers. I'm starting on a high dosage of Levothyroxine Sodium tomorrow morning, and I should start feeling much better in a few weeks. I'm really hoping that adjusting my hormone levels will get me pregnant quickly, but even if I just stop feeling exhausted and depressed, that would be a great start for me. This was only my second doctor's appointment for fertility, and I'm already feeling more peace of mind than I've felt in the last two years. We are finally doing something about our infertility, and it feels so so good.

Crossing Our Fingers, Crossing Our Toes

I have a big doctor's appointment on Wednesday, and I'm kind of freaking out.

Am I going to find out that I'm infertile?

Is my husband going to discover that he isn't producing enough swimmers?

Are we getting ourselves into years of expensive medical procedures?

What if the doctors can't find any problems and we're stuck back at square one? (That's my biggest fear right now, because that does happen.) Honestly, the lack of closure is what scares me the most right now. I can live with anything else... but I can't live without answers. I need to feel empowered about my reproductive health again.

I'm nervous about my relationship with my doctor. I haven't had a regular doctor in years, and the one I had as a child/teenager wasn't the greatest. I worry that I won't have an easy relationship with the doctor and that she and I won't be on the same page with my reproductive health and needs. I'm not super worried about this at the moment, but it is lingering at the back of my mind.

If we are infertile, I've always been supportive of adoptions. I almost adopted my niece a few years ago, and I would do it again in a heartbeat (for any child--not just my niece). If I find out that my husband and I won't be able to biologically parent children together, I'll be disappointed, but I will be glad to have closure. Unless you've been in my boat, it's impossible to know what kind of a stressor fertility problems can be. Closure is what I'm looking to get more than anything else right now. I mean, it'd be cool to get a baby too, but I'm open to the fact that my family may come together in a different way than I could have ever imagined.

I really hope that I'm going to find answers soon. I know that I'm only 24 and I'm young, but I've waited my entire life to be a mom, and I don't want to wait any longer than I have to.

Anyway, that's what's on my mind right now. I'm really excited for the closure that I hope this doctor's appointment will bring, and I hope that my fertility questions are answered quickly! I guess I will let the world know how Wednesday goes! And who knows? Maybe the doctor will tell me I'm already pregnant and just didn't know it (wouldn't that be great?)!