Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman With Defective Ovaries

My husband went Monday morning to give his contribution to this little project. He wasn’t exactly thrilled, but I was happy to remind him that this was the ONLY thing he had to do through all of this (besides put up with me). After this test we would know if he was having any issues or if we needed to ignore him and focus on me. Normally I would welcome all the attention on me (I’m an entertainer at heart and love an audience), but in this case I was actually hoping something would be wrong with his guys.

Weird, right? And also a little bitchy of me. I couldn’t believe that I was actually hoping something would be wrong with his sperm, but I was. I was hoping we were in this together and that he could experience the same failure and disappointment that I was. So when I got the call on Friday that, “Nathan’s specimen results were great and we have nothing to worry about concerning him,” I couldn’t believe that I wasn’t happy. I should be ecstatic that it’s not a problem with both of us, right? But I wasn’t.

After I got off the phone with the nurse and hearing Nathan’s results I immediately felt an enormous amount of pressure. This test just confirmed that it was me. The problem is with me. The reason we haven’t been able to get pregnant is because of me. Don’t get me wrong, Nathan has done an AMAZING job of putting up with me comforting and reassuring me that we are 100% in this together, but hearing the words that Nathan was fine were still hard to swallow. To be honest, I wanted it to be him. Well I wanted this to just all be a fluke and for nothing to be wrong with either one of us, but if it had to be one of us I was hoping it was him. See… totally bitchy!

I mean my body has 1 job to do as a woman! It was made to make and have babies. So why is my shit defective? “Get it together ovaries!” I know I’m being irrational and extreme, but I tried my best to explain to Nathan that I have every right to be. We aren’t trying to decide on something like a paint color and Lowe’s tells us that color is discontinued. This is our future child and someone is telling us there is a chance this might not happen for us. It’s a big deal. Probably one of the biggest deals of our lives! So I’m singing, “They’re my ovaries and I’ll cry if I want to.”

I can write all of this because I’ve already expressed my disappointment to Nathan and being the saint that he is, he gets it. Just like he gets it when I send him to Jack in the Box at 9 pm just to get me curly fries (that happened last night by the way), he just gets it. If he could carry this burden for me I know he would.

So here we are again, waiting. I probably won’t have an update for a while because I don’t go back to the doctor for a couple of weeks. I’ll go back at the end of the month for more torture blood work to check my progesterone levels and then I’ll go back sometime around the first of October to test my FSH levels again. After these tests we’ll be able to compare and then plan our next step. Until then, I’ll be drinking trying to keep myself busy and doing my best to “relax.”

2f9f18d73aaabe4766ea19adbd9c1fc6

842bd74c90f0220af67cac10f3db84c8

d499245a3ddbed57608331b0e025e5c3

PS – I really do appreciate all the kind words and advice so PLEASE keep it coming. I just find ecards about infertility hilarious and very accurate.

Advertisements

And On the 8th day God Created Facebook…

I finally mustered up the courage to share this blog with my Facebook friends today. I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn’t expecting the reaction I received. I am so moved and genuinely speechless (enjoy the silence, it doesn’t happen often) about the amount of likes, comments, messages, texts, calls, etc. that I received and I am seriously thanking God for Facebook!

I started this blog to help myself express and sort through all the emotions and pain I’ve been experiencing this past year. I never realized that by sharing my story I might be helping someone else who is struggling with similar issues. I also never realized the amount of women who would reach out to me with their own personal stories of success and some of heartache. I 100% believe in the power of prayer and by sharing our journey publicly it has opened up the flood gates! We’ve got so many people knocking on God’s door now and I know he hears us. I’ve just got to do my best to keep my crazy in check be patient.

So cheers to all you prayer warriors out there (insert clinking noise here that I just made with my glass and bottle of wine)! And thank you from the very bottom of my heart for all of the support. You all are the best 1,153 Facebook friends a girl could ask for!

I’m in a much more positive mood today, but still have to remind myself of this often…

bb82a4abd7209521fcc79ffaf3e21db8

And a huge shout out to one of my sorority sisters who is in a similar boat. She sent me some encouraging words and this song to listen to. If you have a couple minutes to cry your eyes out you need to listen to this song. Whatever you are struggling with just let it go and “just be held.”

FSH: F****** Stupid Hormones

FSH: F****** Stupid Hormones! Ok so that’s not exactly what FSH stands for, but I’m beginning to think this is a much better description for the acronym. FSH (Follicle-stimulating hormone) in women stimulates the ovaries to produce eggs. This is the hormone my doctor checked when I had my bloodwork done last week. And let’s just say that my results weren’t exactly great and I feel like Mother Nature just gave me a swift punch in the gut.

I was sitting at work today when my phone vibrated and I saw my Dr.’s office on the caller id. I picked it up and ran to the break room for some privacy. I cry a lot, but I don’t like to do it in public. I answered the call and as the nurse said, “We have the results of your bloodwork and they weren’t what we hoped for.” My heart immediately sank and of course cue instant water works. She said, “Your FSH levels are high which the doctor wasn’t expecting and we’ll need you to repeat the bloodwork test again next month so we can compare the results.” She also said a few other things that I couldn’t understand over my sobs so I simply muttered OK and hung up the phone.

Insert immediate panic attack here… What the hell is an FSH? Why is mine high? What is normal? Can I even get pregnant? And for God’s sake when does Grey’s Anatomy come back on and how is Meredith ever going to make it without McDreamy? OK, maybe not so much the last question, but all the others were valid. And of course I immediately turn to Google which clearly did not calm me down. I finally called my doctor’s office back and asked to speak to the nurse again because I had some serious questions about my test results and what this all means. She got on the phone and I apologized for losing it earlier and told her that I had some time to freak out and google process what she had just told me and that I would like to ask her a few questions. I’m still convinced all these doctors and nurses are speaking a foreign language, but she tried her best to explain. “Normal FSH levels should be 2.5 – 10.2 and we were hoping yours would be in the 3-5 range. Your level was at a 10.5.” In this case bigger is apparently not always better. High FSH levels mean that my body is working harder to produce good eggs and could be an indication that I have a low level of ovarian reserves. So apparently my so called over-reacting about turning 30 in November because ‘my eggs are dying’ wasn’t really over-reacting at all. Now granted they are just slightly on the high side and it could be much, much higher, but my doctor still thinks this could potentially be why we haven’t gotten knocked up conceived yet. 

Now obviously this is completely worst case scenario and we don’t know one way or another just yet about the condition of my eggs, but it’s definitely NOT the news I wanted to hear. I told the nurse I needed a worst case scenario. I don’t want someone telling me, “Sure there’s still a chance you can get pregnant” if that chance is only a once in a lifetime ‘Jesus walking on water’ kind of miracle. She said she wasn’t comfortable giving me a doom and gloom scenario and that she would have my doctor call me as soon as she was available. So once again, I waited.

An agonizing 30 min later the phone rang again and my doctor said all the same things the nurse had and I told her I needed to know what we are really looking at here. She said we will know more after the second round of blood work, but (insert gut punch here), “Unfortunately people with high FSH levels have a much lower pregnancy rate and a higher miscarriage rate if they are able to become pregnant without the use of an egg donor.” I stopped her immediately right there because I wasn’t quite as ready for all the doom and gloom as I thought I was. I thanked her for her time and for putting up with me as usual. I told her that I would do my best not to panic any more than I already was and that I would wait until the next round of bloodwork before I really went into a severe state of depression panicked. I did let her know that I’m a lunatic and by my next appointment I would basically be an expert on high FSH levels, Premature Ovarian Aging and everything that goes with it. She ended the conversation with a positive outlook and said the magic word… HOPE. There is always hope.

So here we are… 3 o’clock on a Monday afternoon and I’m already in my sweatpants and half way into this bottle of wine. Don’t worry, I left work early and am conveniently positioned on my couch where I plan to remain FOREVER! Or at least until I have to get up for work tomorrow. I mean what would you do if you were basically just told you’re a 29 year old with the ovaries of a 39 year old?! So please, leave your judgment at home and pick up a glass or bottle of wine and bring it on over because I’m running low!

I don’t have any words of wisdom or positive thoughts for today, because some days just suck!

0edca242341efbd0992873dea404e1cd

 

9/8/15 – FACT: Swearing when you’re hurt helps reduce pain.

S*** that hurt! Apparently I’m going to need to get used to giving blood. Let’s back track a few days to last Friday. I went in for my doctor appointment as scheduled. After the horrible night I had, I spent my morning (here’s a shocker) crying and trying to pull myself together. I kept telling myself I wasn’t going to cry at my appointment. Well that didn’t happen. I held it together up until the minute I heard the knock on the door in my exam room and before my doctor could even get both feet in the room I was a hot mess of tears again. She assured me it was normal to be a blubbering lunatic emotional. I told her I would do my best to voice my questions and concerns, but that she might need to bring in some sort of an interpreter if she wasn’t fluent in “bat s*** crazy talk.”

So there we sat. I attempted to talk and my doctor listened. After I finally took a breath from my word vomit my doctor finally stepped in and started spewing her own word vomit: FSH, estradiol, progesterone and so on and so on. She talked for about 10 minutes in what I was sure was a different language. And after she was done she calmly asked, “Do you have any questions?” REALLY?! Do I have any questions? I replied with, “I’m not sure you have that much time.” She laughed and once again assured me that it was normal. She told me it might be a good idea to keep a journal of questions that I think of and then we can discuss at our next appointment. She also very emphatically encouraged me to STAY OFF OF GOOGLE. At least until we find out what our specific issue is.

So here we are, back to today and step one of this whole processes… bloodwork. I’m convinced that I’ve got some sort of secret “I hate giving blood” stamp on my forehead that is only visible to nurses. And when I enter they see it and immediately pass me off to the person with the least amount of experience to take my blood. Now I’m sure that’s not the case, but it really feels like it. After 3 tries and 3 very painful pricks later she finally got a vein. The hard part was over… or at least I thought. After I left and gave myself a pat on the back for not being an almost 30 year old who cried while getting her blood drawn I realized that wasn’t the hard part. Waiting for the results would be the hard part. Just like waiting every month to see if I would get my period is the hard part. And this is only the beginning. Nathan goes on Monday to “give his contribution” so we can find out if it might be him or rule him out. And then more waiting on those tests. I will go back for more bloodwork towards the end of the month after I have ovulated. And then more waiting. So that is what my life has become… a waiting game.

So today I’m getting my daily motivation from Cinderella… “No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dreams that you wish will come true.”

b8181c781339d88159dbc43570d7d314

9/4/15 – The B**** Is Back!

As I was getting ready for bed last night I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew Aunt Flow was about to make her unwanted appearance. I prepared as I usually do because without fail I always end up waking up in crippling pain feeling like there is an alien life form inside my uterus attempting to make it’s way out by any means necessary… sounds pleasant, right? So I put my extra strength Tylenol on my nightstand and the heating pad was plugged in and ready to go and I drifted off to sleep.

Then BAM! There it was just as I suspected; intense pain. I woke up a little after 2 am and laid in bed, dreading the walk to the bathroom because I knew what I would find. After a while I knew I had to get up. So I walked the longest 20 feet of my life and there she was waiting for me, Aunt Flow. Every month I tell myself that I’m not going to cry if I get my period, but without fail the second it comes so do the water works. I stumbled, blurry-eyed back to our bedroom to get a few things and then assumed my position on the couch. So with my blanket and heating pad I sat in the fetal position and cried, while watching Friends of course. Nick at Night is my go-to channel for this all too familiar late night routine. And if Friends isn’t on (don’t worry, it’s always on) then don’t you worry, I’ve got the seasons on DVD. Insert my new motto here: Because if you can’t laugh, all you do is cry.

I cried for a while and tried to pull myself together… it didn’t work. So I walked my hot mess self back to our bedroom and crawled in bed next to my husband. He knew. He always does. So he did what he does best; he held me. As we laid there spooning and me still crying he rubbed my back, kissed my head and comforted me without saying a word.

After a while the sobbing shifted to just a few straggling tears and intense hurt. Hurt from the physical pain of the demon cramps and hurt from the emotional pain of this once again not being the month I would end up pregnant. So I rolled out of bed to let Nathan get a few more minutes of sleep before his 4 am wakeup call and I headed back out to the couch to let my mind overreact wander.

As if I wasn’t already emotional enough about today lets just throw in a period to really make me irrational. Today is the day I’m heading to see my doctor for the first time to find out what the hell do I do next what our next steps are. I hope she is able to pick up a few words through the sobs that will inevitably flow the instant I step foot in her office. No idea what to expect for today or at this point how I’m even going to get through it. One thing is for sure, the second I step out of her office I’ll be heading straight to the nearest store to stock up on my personal depression cocktail of wine and cookie dough. Hello Friday Night!

5ea5140c71b4681d5ff48bdad42378c6

8/25/15 – Well, here goes…

Well, here goes… welcome to my personal blog recounting all the messy details of my reproductive organs, mental breakdowns, pee sticks and wine binging while my husband and I try to create a human. Intrigued? Well I can’t say I blame you after that opening statement. Who wouldn’t want to read all of the intimate details of my life that I’ve just posted on the internet?! So sit back, grab a glass of wine or a beer (you can be sure I’ve got one while typing this) and enjoy reading about my desolation and despair journey to conceiving a child.

Rewind – My story begins with a prince who rescued me from a wicked queen who had me locked inside a tower… well not exactly, but it worked for Disney, right? While I do consider Nathan my Prince Charming he didn’t rescue me from an evil queen. Sorry to ruin the hype. He’s just a normal guy who loves me completely. All my quirks and outbursts, my love of Slurpees and hotdogs, he even loves that I sometimes cry at reality television (Biggest Loser gets me every time); He loves ALL of me. I think that kind of love is something everyone hopes for. It’s a calming feeling to know that no matter what kind of crazy I show him each day it’s harder to divorce me than to just stay married he’s always there to comfort me and talk me off the ledge.

Nathan and I were married on July 18th, 2014, in what was no doubt the talk of Eureka Springs, AR. We stood in the most amazing chapel and vowed to love each other forever, blah, blah, blah. You’ve been to weddings you know the drill. Since then we’ve bought a home and about 3 ½ acres of land and spend our weekends with our 2 kids, renovating, DIYing, shooting things (just targets and deer mostly) and trying to make a human… not all at once of course and definitely not in that particular order. Now I’m sure you’re probably thinking, “This girl’s wine must have kicked in! Isn’t this a blog about conceiving a child? Did she just say she already has 2?” And you would be correct in ALL of those assumptions. My husband came into my life as a package deal. He brought with him a lego loving, kindhearted little boy and a sassy, outdoorsy little girl. Nathan has already made me a mother. I’m a firm believer that it takes more than just DNA to make someone a parent. I call them my children and there is no way I could love them more! While some women would be thrilled with having two amazing children that they didn’t have to go through the ups and downs of pregnancy to have, I’ve waited my whole life to be pregnant. Yes, I’m one of those ‘pregnancy is so beautiful’ and ‘I can’t wait until I’m fat’ kind of women. I’ve spent so many mornings standing in front of the mirror pushing my stomach out (unfortunately some days I didn’t have to push very hard) and just imagining myself with that tiny baby bump. And NOW, here I am, married to the man of my dreams, in our home and ready for the next step… a screaming, crying, pooping, needy little bundle of joy.

Up until about a year ago I thought getting pregnant would be a breeze! I mean everyone seemed to be doing it. I’d just stop taking my birth control and BOOM… I’m knocked up. Right? Wrong, so so wrong! Apparently getting pregnant is like really, really hard. I mean have you ever googled pregnancy statistics? Weird… me neither. But if you did you’d find out that there is only like a 12-24 hour time frame each month when you can get pregnant and of that time only about 20% actually get pregnant. Now I’m not sure where these so called ‘doctors’ are getting their information from because last time I checked the good ole FB I’m pretty sure EVERYONE I know is pregnant or just had a baby. So if it’s so hard to get pregnant then why does everyone seem to be doing it with such ease? Insert panic attack here… my eggs are dying, Nathan’s guys are slow, I have an inhospitable environment even though “I’ve always tried to be such a good host!” (If you picked up on that subtle Friends reference, we might be soul mates.) I tend to be a notorious over-reactor. Just ask my co-workers about the lump I found behind my ear and through the magic of Google and WebMD, I convinced myself it was a tumor. Good news… it wasn’t a tumor and it went away. Bad news… this lovely personality trait is great when it comes to my job (I’m a meeting and event planner and thrive on details and precise planning), but it’s not so great when you are dealing with something you have absolutely no control of.

Don’t get me wrong, while I’m over the moon excited for all my mommy and daddy friends I can’t help but lose enthusiasm and wonder when it will be my turn to post the ‘coming soon,’ or ‘Reese party of 5,’ and overshare belly and sonogram pictures (consider this your warning if we’re Facebook friends.) Everyone says, “it will happen eventually,” “stay positive,” and my personal favorites “just keep trying,” and “are you sure you’re doing it enough?”

I like to think I’m a pretty positive person… until I get the dreaded visit from Aunt Flow every month and my dreams are crushed. This is usually followed by about 2 weeks of binge drinking, then a week of pee sticks to test ovulation, another two weeks of waiting (sober might I add) and then wrapped up with a week of running to the store to buy tampons, cookie dough and wine. I’ve been trying to send myself positive vibes by not keeping any tampons in the house hoping that month I won’t need them. The cookie dough and wine method coupled with some comforting hugs and wise words from my husband is how I deal each month with the disappointment of seeing only one line on that pregnancy test. And then the vicious cycle continues the next month.

So here we are. Still not pregnant and a little heavier (I blame the wine and cookie dough). I created this blog as an outlet for me to vent my frustrations and to keep everyone filled in. Because no offense, but if I get one more “So when are you going to have a baby?” or “I’m really surprised you and Nathan aren’t pregnant yet!” I might just lose it. And by lose it I mean burst into sudden uncontrollable tears. So if you happen to be the poor soul that triggers this, I apologize in advance. I’ve got my first doctor’s appointment coming up to talk about our next steps since we’ve been trying for almost a year now. Praying that my nervousness has just been getting the best of me and all of my lady parts are in working order. Guess we’ll find out. Until then I’ll leave you with this….

1 Corinthians 1:9 – She holds onto hope for he is forever faithful.