Wow, it has been a while. Things at work have become so chaotic and hectic and busy that I barely have time to eat my lunch let alone blog or keep up on TB! I am at school until at least 5 every day and still have so much work to do. All school teachers and students have a four day weekend (hooray!) so here I am, finally able to update!
Yesterday I graduated from the RE!!! I am so freaking excited I can hardly stand it. My sweet little bean has a hearbeat of 167 beats per minute and is measuring right on track at 8 weeks!!! I got to stop taking the Estrace yesterday and have only one more week of Endometrin suppositories!!!!! YAYAYAYAY!!!!!! I am so excited to be done with that crap. I am very grateful I got in to see the OB I wanted to use. I can't see her until 11/25, but that's okay; I really wanted to use her so I'm just relieved that I got in at all! I had these visions of them telling me they weren't accepting new OB patients at this time. Since I have been exclusively seeing my pelvic pain specialist (who is an OB) for the past year and a half I had to find someone new now that I am pregnant. The OB I chose is one that I saw in January of 2013 when I was searching for someone who could help me with my pelvic pain. While she couldn't help me with it, she was very sympathetic and kind and I really liked her practice. She is a holistic practitioner and uses herbs and aromatherapy to complement allopathic stuff and also specializes in natural birth (unless otherwise indicated, of course--she can/will do epidurals, c-sections, etc. if necessary).
If I could, I would have a home birth. I would love nothing more than to have a midwife come to my house, have my husband catch the baby and then curl up in my own bed and nurse by baby. However, I live a solid 35 minutes away from the nearest hospital and also, being on meds myself, I just feel that I would need the extra support that a hospital would offer. Since there are no birthing centers in NJ, the hospital is kind of my only other option. I feel that even though her practice is about 40 minutes from my house (everything is 40 minutes from our house--we live in the mountains out in the sticks) and the hospital she delivers at is an hour from our house, this will be the closest thing to having what I want for prenatal care as well as birthing. She has since gone into private practice and I am just absolutely in love with everything I have read about her practice and everything I see on their website. I really think it will be a perfect fit. Plus the hospital she delivers at has private rooms, tubs for water labor and a really good reputation for maternity care. I have known since I met her that I wanted to use her for prenatal care, but just to get all the information I did research on other hospitals that might be a little closer. The only thing I found that I really liked at all was a holistic birthing unit in a different major hospital, but that hospital is just so crazy busy and also my SIL had a horrible experience there so I just decided to go with my gut and stick with what I know.
So I am very excited to see her in a few weeks. Mostly, I am excited to be just a regular pregnant person in one more week!!! No more hormone meds!!! For now, I am just trying to keep up at work and be not so tired. That last part is not working; I'm exhausted beyone belief right now. I am so lazy I can barely peel myself off the couch by the time I get home. Eating is kind of hard too; all this kid wants is carbs and cheese. But I'm working on trying to get the veggies in there. I can do it if I add starches somehow (grains, beans, etc.)
Also I think we are going to tell my dad and stepmom and MH's family on Thanksgiving. I had wanted to try and hold out for Christmas, but 1) they will immediately know something is up when I don't walk in the door and start pouring wine 2) I don't know when we will get to see everyone in person again since we are going to see my mom and aunts for Christmas. I am adament about telling family in person whenever possible. Plus I already can't use my belt anymore. I will be eleven weeks at Thanksgiving. While it's still a tad bit earlier than I would have liked, I think it will be best and fine. I will tell my aunts in person on Christmas (my mom and stepdad already know). After that it's open season. Cool.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Sunday, October 19, 2014
I finally get to call it: BFFP!!!
So obviously this has been a lot longer than it should have been. But there has been a lot of drama and I really didn't want to write this until we were sure what was going to happen. It's one thing to update on a message board but to have to write a whole blog post would have been the most depressing thing ever. So settle in; it's gonna be a long one!
So as I wrote about in my last post we did our transfer and everything was supposed to be perfect! I have had the most positive attitude and a really optimistic outlook on everything, but that doesn't mean I wasn't nervous. The closer we got to Wednesday Oct. 8th, the day of my first beta, the more nervous I got. I had had reeeeeeally sore boobs but I wasn't sure if it was from the meds or from actually being pregnant. I had read about other people testing out their triggers and all, but I didn't want to do that. I had been planning on waiting until Wednesday morning before my beta to test but I woke up early on Saturday morning and couldn't get back to sleep. I told myself I wasn't going to test, but I had some Wondfos so I just finally got out of bed and did it, knowing full well that it would be negative. It was, and I went back to bed for two hours. But.......when I came downstairs to the bathroom later, there was the test on top of the trash with a faint hint of a line. I started laughing or crying or something because I didn't know what to do. I knew that it was an evap, but I have never gotten one before so there was part of me that got excited. The next morning I took another one--and it was stark negative. I didn't expect to be, but I was super crushed. I cried and freaked out all day even though I knew I was being unreasonable. This is exactly why I had decided NOT to test. I have never been a big tester; I don't know what I was thinking. After talking to people about it a lot they convinced me that not only was it too early but that Wondfos generally suck for early detection like that and to only use FRERs. But I was not completely convinced. By the time Tuesday came I had exactly ZERO symptoms anymore, so I started to fear the worst. On my way home on Tuesday I picked up a box of FRERs and was debating whether to take it that night or wait until the morning.
***Pause for a quick backstory: I had ordered a onesie online after the transfer to give to MH for when we got the postitive test. I was bummed when I found out it wasn't due to arrive until October 13th, at which point we would already know if I was pregnant or not. Oh well, NBD, right?***
Anyway, so I walked into the house and saw that MH had gotten home already and gotten the mail. I saw a package on the table that I knew contained the onesie--six days early. I immediately knew it was a sign that the test was going to be positive. I just knew it. So I ran into the bathroom and used my first FRER. I stood there shaking and waited for the lines to fill in. And then it happened--that faint, but beautiful second line filled in. I started doing that same laugh/cry thing and MH came into the bathroom going "It's negative, isn't it...." I couldn't speak so I just moved over and let him see for himself. It was amazing. We hugged and danced around the kitchen and had a great night.
The next morning I was very excited to use another FRER, thinking that it would be a lot darker this time since it was first thing in the moring. But it was negative. I mean, like really negative. I was so shocked that I kept holding it up to the light and looking at it this way and that. I swore I could see a very faint line, but I knew at this point that after my positive last night this should not be happening. I didn't know what to do. On the one hand I didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but on the other I knew this was not right. I was shaking. I decided not to wake up MH and tell him anything; I would wait until after the beta results to say anything.
Chemical pregnancy. That is what I knew they would say. As I drove to the office I just kept turning it over in my mind. How could this be? It was supposed to be so perfect. Everything had gone perfectly. I had a terrible feeling in my gut, like I had secretly been waiting for the other shoe to drop; that everything had gone so well and had been timed so perfectly that there is no way this could possibly have worked out. How could I have been so stupid?
When I got the call I was (thankfully) on my prep during school, except there was a class being taught in my room and I could not talk to the nurse. I ran out into the hall, but there were people in the teacher's room. I ran to the bathroom. Someone in there too. It didn't matter. She told me what I already knew; my beta was too low, 25.something and that I should prepare myself for a chemical pregnancy but come back on Friday for a followup. I was so devastated I couldn't speak anyway, so I just said "okay" and hung up. I went outside called MH who was on his lunch and told him what happened. I started crying but was trying to do everything I could to hold it in considering I was at school and had one more class to teach. I tried to breathe and just told myself I needed to get through this next hour until I could break down. I went back inside and into the bathroom. I closed myself in a stall and tried to steady my breathing and blew my nose. And then about five people came into the bathroom all at once and someone said "How's the babyyyyy??" "Oh, he's greeeeat etc. etc. etc." and I buckled over and sobbed. Luckily someone flushed the toilet at that moment so I don't think anyone heard.
The next 48 hours were hell. Just hell. I never thought I would feel like that about an early loss, but I was devastated. My baby was not going to make it. To add insult to injury, on Friday after my morning beta, we had a professional day at school, culminating in a baby shower for two pregnant coworkers who are leaving shortly for maternity leave. I would have rather been in Iraq. But I braved it and left school the moment I was able, looking forward to the weekend. As upset as I still was, I had had two days to process what was going to happen and was fully prepared to receive the call from my RE and to have the conversation about the next steps.
So you could color me shocked when she called me and told me that MY BETA HAD DOUBLED!!!! She said it was still low but that it had appropriately doubled, so they wanted me back in on Sunday for a third draw!!! I was so shocked that I just started babbling. I told her about my tests. I didn't understand. She said that perhaps the first FRER was still picking up the trigger, but that would have been 7dp5dt, and plus I had had those negative Wondfos. But I didn't care. When I got home I ran into the bathroom without even saying anything to MH and used my last FRER. BLAZING lines. Unquestionably positive. I held it behind my back and went into his room. When he looked at me questioningly, I took out the test: "We've got a fighter", I said. He hugged me and we did some more dancing.
So my third beta came back good but still low so they put me on Estrace. After that I decided enough. Enough fearing the worst. I made the conscious decision to expect the best and believe in my baby. I truly believed everything was going to be fine. I started to feel a lot better after that. At my FOURTH beta they gave me an ultrasound where they saw a gestational sac but no yolk sac. Since it was still early, they told me to come back today for yet a fifth beta and a second ultrasound. And there it was: a gloriously beautiful yolk sac. And my bloods came in well over 2K (I don't remember the exact numbers). So this limbo........it's over. Everyone is happy. I am pregnant. I finally get to wait a whole week and a half before going back into the office for more bloods or ultrasounds. Today I am 5 weeks 4 days. I am going back on the 29th, at 7 weeks, for a heartbeat scan!!!! I am so freaking excited to see that beautiful heartbeat!!!
So needless to say this has been more than a little stressful. As you may have figured if you have followed my blog at all, I am not one of those people to whom anything comes easily. So I'm not at all surprised that my kid is already messing with me. I'm not at all surprised that I ended up being one of those people with a crazy testing story. I'm also, more than anything, not at all surprised that I have a little fighter in me. But I knew it. After that second beta came back, I just knew it. I knew everything was going to be okay. I am pregnant. I still can't believe I get to say those words. I know it is still early, but I truly do believe in my baby and believe that everything will be okay. So today, I AM PREGNANT.
So as I wrote about in my last post we did our transfer and everything was supposed to be perfect! I have had the most positive attitude and a really optimistic outlook on everything, but that doesn't mean I wasn't nervous. The closer we got to Wednesday Oct. 8th, the day of my first beta, the more nervous I got. I had had reeeeeeally sore boobs but I wasn't sure if it was from the meds or from actually being pregnant. I had read about other people testing out their triggers and all, but I didn't want to do that. I had been planning on waiting until Wednesday morning before my beta to test but I woke up early on Saturday morning and couldn't get back to sleep. I told myself I wasn't going to test, but I had some Wondfos so I just finally got out of bed and did it, knowing full well that it would be negative. It was, and I went back to bed for two hours. But.......when I came downstairs to the bathroom later, there was the test on top of the trash with a faint hint of a line. I started laughing or crying or something because I didn't know what to do. I knew that it was an evap, but I have never gotten one before so there was part of me that got excited. The next morning I took another one--and it was stark negative. I didn't expect to be, but I was super crushed. I cried and freaked out all day even though I knew I was being unreasonable. This is exactly why I had decided NOT to test. I have never been a big tester; I don't know what I was thinking. After talking to people about it a lot they convinced me that not only was it too early but that Wondfos generally suck for early detection like that and to only use FRERs. But I was not completely convinced. By the time Tuesday came I had exactly ZERO symptoms anymore, so I started to fear the worst. On my way home on Tuesday I picked up a box of FRERs and was debating whether to take it that night or wait until the morning.
***Pause for a quick backstory: I had ordered a onesie online after the transfer to give to MH for when we got the postitive test. I was bummed when I found out it wasn't due to arrive until October 13th, at which point we would already know if I was pregnant or not. Oh well, NBD, right?***
Anyway, so I walked into the house and saw that MH had gotten home already and gotten the mail. I saw a package on the table that I knew contained the onesie--six days early. I immediately knew it was a sign that the test was going to be positive. I just knew it. So I ran into the bathroom and used my first FRER. I stood there shaking and waited for the lines to fill in. And then it happened--that faint, but beautiful second line filled in. I started doing that same laugh/cry thing and MH came into the bathroom going "It's negative, isn't it...." I couldn't speak so I just moved over and let him see for himself. It was amazing. We hugged and danced around the kitchen and had a great night.
The next morning I was very excited to use another FRER, thinking that it would be a lot darker this time since it was first thing in the moring. But it was negative. I mean, like really negative. I was so shocked that I kept holding it up to the light and looking at it this way and that. I swore I could see a very faint line, but I knew at this point that after my positive last night this should not be happening. I didn't know what to do. On the one hand I didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but on the other I knew this was not right. I was shaking. I decided not to wake up MH and tell him anything; I would wait until after the beta results to say anything.
Chemical pregnancy. That is what I knew they would say. As I drove to the office I just kept turning it over in my mind. How could this be? It was supposed to be so perfect. Everything had gone perfectly. I had a terrible feeling in my gut, like I had secretly been waiting for the other shoe to drop; that everything had gone so well and had been timed so perfectly that there is no way this could possibly have worked out. How could I have been so stupid?
When I got the call I was (thankfully) on my prep during school, except there was a class being taught in my room and I could not talk to the nurse. I ran out into the hall, but there were people in the teacher's room. I ran to the bathroom. Someone in there too. It didn't matter. She told me what I already knew; my beta was too low, 25.something and that I should prepare myself for a chemical pregnancy but come back on Friday for a followup. I was so devastated I couldn't speak anyway, so I just said "okay" and hung up. I went outside called MH who was on his lunch and told him what happened. I started crying but was trying to do everything I could to hold it in considering I was at school and had one more class to teach. I tried to breathe and just told myself I needed to get through this next hour until I could break down. I went back inside and into the bathroom. I closed myself in a stall and tried to steady my breathing and blew my nose. And then about five people came into the bathroom all at once and someone said "How's the babyyyyy??" "Oh, he's greeeeat etc. etc. etc." and I buckled over and sobbed. Luckily someone flushed the toilet at that moment so I don't think anyone heard.
The next 48 hours were hell. Just hell. I never thought I would feel like that about an early loss, but I was devastated. My baby was not going to make it. To add insult to injury, on Friday after my morning beta, we had a professional day at school, culminating in a baby shower for two pregnant coworkers who are leaving shortly for maternity leave. I would have rather been in Iraq. But I braved it and left school the moment I was able, looking forward to the weekend. As upset as I still was, I had had two days to process what was going to happen and was fully prepared to receive the call from my RE and to have the conversation about the next steps.
So you could color me shocked when she called me and told me that MY BETA HAD DOUBLED!!!! She said it was still low but that it had appropriately doubled, so they wanted me back in on Sunday for a third draw!!! I was so shocked that I just started babbling. I told her about my tests. I didn't understand. She said that perhaps the first FRER was still picking up the trigger, but that would have been 7dp5dt, and plus I had had those negative Wondfos. But I didn't care. When I got home I ran into the bathroom without even saying anything to MH and used my last FRER. BLAZING lines. Unquestionably positive. I held it behind my back and went into his room. When he looked at me questioningly, I took out the test: "We've got a fighter", I said. He hugged me and we did some more dancing.
So my third beta came back good but still low so they put me on Estrace. After that I decided enough. Enough fearing the worst. I made the conscious decision to expect the best and believe in my baby. I truly believed everything was going to be fine. I started to feel a lot better after that. At my FOURTH beta they gave me an ultrasound where they saw a gestational sac but no yolk sac. Since it was still early, they told me to come back today for yet a fifth beta and a second ultrasound. And there it was: a gloriously beautiful yolk sac. And my bloods came in well over 2K (I don't remember the exact numbers). So this limbo........it's over. Everyone is happy. I am pregnant. I finally get to wait a whole week and a half before going back into the office for more bloods or ultrasounds. Today I am 5 weeks 4 days. I am going back on the 29th, at 7 weeks, for a heartbeat scan!!!! I am so freaking excited to see that beautiful heartbeat!!!
So needless to say this has been more than a little stressful. As you may have figured if you have followed my blog at all, I am not one of those people to whom anything comes easily. So I'm not at all surprised that my kid is already messing with me. I'm not at all surprised that I ended up being one of those people with a crazy testing story. I'm also, more than anything, not at all surprised that I have a little fighter in me. But I knew it. After that second beta came back, I just knew it. I knew everything was going to be okay. I am pregnant. I still can't believe I get to say those words. I know it is still early, but I truly do believe in my baby and believe that everything will be okay. So today, I AM PREGNANT.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Transfer Day!
I am officially PUPO! That's "pregnant unless proven otherwise" for those who might not know. This day--it's been amazing. Like a hazy dream. We had to get up and go at 4am so I might not be making up the hazy part! MH is normally a heavy sleeper who will sleep through anything and fall back asleep instantly if awakened, so it speaks volumes of our excitement level that we chattered away the whole hour car ride down to the clinic. We even ended up with this super excited and happy nurse--you could tell she really loved her job the way she was so bubbly and kept saying "let's get you knocked up!" It was great. But when the doctor arrived it was even better.
He walked in and introduced himself (it was not my doctor on shift so I had never met this guy) and immediately said "You did very, very well! You couldn't ask to do any better than this!" No really, he said that! Then he told us that we had a beautiful, perfect 6AA blastocyst--the highest grade embryo that you can possibly get!--and ten more to freeze!!!!! I was so happy and relieved to hear that! So I asked him if he thought it was okay to transfer just one. His response was that when people are in this situation and their chances are this good he in fact encourages it. So that's what we did--we confidently transferred just one precious little golden egg. And I know he will make it! We were so happy and relieved! We received a picture of our perfect little blast and it doesn't look perfect at all! It's all funny shaped and lopsided, hahaha........but it's ours. All ours. I am convinced it's a boy, but MH thinks it's a girl. So, we'll see! But whoever is in there, go ahead and stick--we love you so very much already and can't wait to spend the next nine months growing you and singing to you!!
He walked in and introduced himself (it was not my doctor on shift so I had never met this guy) and immediately said "You did very, very well! You couldn't ask to do any better than this!" No really, he said that! Then he told us that we had a beautiful, perfect 6AA blastocyst--the highest grade embryo that you can possibly get!--and ten more to freeze!!!!! I was so happy and relieved to hear that! So I asked him if he thought it was okay to transfer just one. His response was that when people are in this situation and their chances are this good he in fact encourages it. So that's what we did--we confidently transferred just one precious little golden egg. And I know he will make it! We were so happy and relieved! We received a picture of our perfect little blast and it doesn't look perfect at all! It's all funny shaped and lopsided, hahaha........but it's ours. All ours. I am convinced it's a boy, but MH thinks it's a girl. So, we'll see! But whoever is in there, go ahead and stick--we love you so very much already and can't wait to spend the next nine months growing you and singing to you!!
Saturday, September 27, 2014
And The Fertilization Results Are In!
So after that epic egg laying on Wednesday I went back to work on Thursday. Ugh--I felt like such shit. I was exhausted, bloated and sore. But I knew I couldn't call out for another day so off to work I went. I was so anxious to get the call and really afraid that they would call when I was teaching and that I wouldn't be able to get back in touch with them. (Yes, my mind of course always runs off to the worst case scenario.) So as soon as lunchtime came I practically sprinted upstairs and lunged at my phone. Sure enough, there was the number as a missed call and a voicemail to call back. My hands were shaking as I dialed. But I needn't have worried.....it was all good news!
22 eggs. 18 were mature. And 16 fertilized. 16!!!!!!!!!!!!!! H and I have 16 embabies growing in that lab right now as I type this!!!!!! I still can't believe it. I started jumping up and down for joy. This whole experience, I thought, could not have been smoother. I could not have asked for a better experience than this. I am so, so excited (and a little nervous) to hear how they do. I know not all of them will make it, but I am just praying that some reach the blastocyst stage by Monday so we can proceed with our Tuesday transfer and have some to freeze. Of course as far as frosties are concerned they can continue maturing them for another few days if they need to; but for a fresh transfer they have to have matured enough by then, otherwise we'll have to wait and I really don't want to do that. I want this due date. I want my baby now. We have waited for two years. Please.
So that is all good AMAZING news. I could not be happier. The shitty thing is that I'm feeling shitty now. The nurse asked me about certain symptoms and wanted me to go back to the RE yesterday morning to get checked for OHSS (ovarian hyperstimualation syndrome). I checked out fine but I think it's the meds that are making me feel this way. I am taking Medrol which is a steroid and it gave me straight up roid rage with my students yesterday (hahaha!). It also makes my heart pound and makes me nervous shaky and feels like there is an elephant sitting on my chest. Thank goodness it's only for three more days. I can handle that, even if it does suck a lot. Also taking the antibiotics make me feel awful too. Bloated (yay--like I need more of that right now) and gross and terrified of a yeast infection. I am doing everything in my power to try and avoid it. I am not eating any sugar or refined carbs and no breads. I am taking herbs (only ones I know are safe for pregnancy and won't interfere with my treatments at all) and apple cider vinegar and heavy duty probiotics and I am eating yogurt, something I normally don't really do a lot of. But I'm not taking any chances. I just got over a month long resistant yeast infection. No fucking thank you. However, I am also taking Endometrin, a progesterone suppository three times a day. It's awful. It's giving me a headache, I'm cranky and tired and I have cottage cheese drainage allll day long. I have to change my pantiliner a couple times during the day. I cannot have sex like this. And the worst part is that it burns. With my history of pelvic pain I cannot have that. It will make me think I am getting a yeast infection all the time (like right now--I'm going crazy! Is this the start of that looming yeast infection or is it just the Endometrin??) and will give me--is giving me--too much anxiety. I would rather have the shots and have a bit of a sore ass. If this were going to be short like the steroids then fine, but this is going to have to be for a long time, even after I am pregnant. So I think I am going to talk to my nurse on Monday and see if I can switch to the shots.
Anyway, so see? It can't all be peaches and cream! But it can be close. It will all be worth it when I see those beautiful lines. Until then I am crossing my fingers that we get some good news on Monday. I know we will though. I just know it. I feel it.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Retrieval Day!!!
Well today was retrieval day yo! So much.......so much in the past couple of days!
So Monday night and yesterday morning I triggered. The night one was easy of course, but the Tuesday morning not so much. My time to do it was 10:20 so it was right in the middle of one of my classes. Very inconvenient. At least if it had been at 10 or 10:30 I could have just gone to the bathroom real quick before class started! I ended up going into work and complaining that I wasn't feeling well. Then at 10:20 I stood up very quickly and acted like I had to throw up. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the shot out of the fridge on the way. Ha! Easy enough and also it set the stage for me calling out today.
So that went well, but all in all yesterday was kind of rough for me. All the doubts and fears started creeping in, when this whole time I had been feeling pretty optimistic. At my morning monitoring appointment my doctor told me I had about ten eggs, maybe a couple more. I was very disappointed to hear that even though he said it was a decent amount. I just knew that meant our chances for having anything left to freeze were greatly reduced if we only had ten. I also discussed transferring one or two embryos with him. MH and I were dead set on doing one at first, then we changed our minds and decided to go with two. After talking to the doctor I am all confused again. Our clinic has excellent success rates; some of the highest in the nation. But I still just don't know what to do. I want it to work. I don't want twins. But I would take twins over none or over having to wait another month and go through more treatments. We decided to wait until we hear about how the quality of the embryos is before making a decision. So I started to get very sad and all..........
EXCEPT THEY GOT 22 EGGS!!!11!!111!!!1!!!1! When they told me I started crying. I was so happy. When we arrived they separated MH and I so he could do his thing and they could prep me in the retrieval room. H came down to the room to wait with me until I went in. The procedure wasn't that bad at all. I was under anesthesia so I didn't care. But I will say this: it was the first time in my life that I woke up from anesthesia and didn't cry. I just felt tired. But then they came in and told me they got 22 eggs and that did it--I sobbed. In a good way!
I'm really crampy but so happy and optimistic. I feel so much better now that I know our chances will be really good. It's crazy to think that over there they have little pieces of MH and me that have actually come together. Hopefully they will thrive. I have great faith that they will.
So Monday night and yesterday morning I triggered. The night one was easy of course, but the Tuesday morning not so much. My time to do it was 10:20 so it was right in the middle of one of my classes. Very inconvenient. At least if it had been at 10 or 10:30 I could have just gone to the bathroom real quick before class started! I ended up going into work and complaining that I wasn't feeling well. Then at 10:20 I stood up very quickly and acted like I had to throw up. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the shot out of the fridge on the way. Ha! Easy enough and also it set the stage for me calling out today.
So that went well, but all in all yesterday was kind of rough for me. All the doubts and fears started creeping in, when this whole time I had been feeling pretty optimistic. At my morning monitoring appointment my doctor told me I had about ten eggs, maybe a couple more. I was very disappointed to hear that even though he said it was a decent amount. I just knew that meant our chances for having anything left to freeze were greatly reduced if we only had ten. I also discussed transferring one or two embryos with him. MH and I were dead set on doing one at first, then we changed our minds and decided to go with two. After talking to the doctor I am all confused again. Our clinic has excellent success rates; some of the highest in the nation. But I still just don't know what to do. I want it to work. I don't want twins. But I would take twins over none or over having to wait another month and go through more treatments. We decided to wait until we hear about how the quality of the embryos is before making a decision. So I started to get very sad and all..........
EXCEPT THEY GOT 22 EGGS!!!11!!111!!!1!!!1! When they told me I started crying. I was so happy. When we arrived they separated MH and I so he could do his thing and they could prep me in the retrieval room. H came down to the room to wait with me until I went in. The procedure wasn't that bad at all. I was under anesthesia so I didn't care. But I will say this: it was the first time in my life that I woke up from anesthesia and didn't cry. I just felt tired. But then they came in and told me they got 22 eggs and that did it--I sobbed. In a good way!
I'm really crampy but so happy and optimistic. I feel so much better now that I know our chances will be really good. It's crazy to think that over there they have little pieces of MH and me that have actually come together. Hopefully they will thrive. I have great faith that they will.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
It's IVF!!
Soooo I can't even believe it has taken me this long to write this post. I keep thinking about it but never getting around to it because so much is happening!! It's been like a blur. So here are my meds:
Along with a summer squash in the corner. Because you know; everyone needs a squash when they do IVF injections. Annnnnyway, everything has been happening right on schedule, better than I could have ever even anticipated. We decided to skip the IUIs and go straight for IVF. Insurance covered it 100%!!! Turns out we are dealing with MFI after all (very low morph) so especially with my age (35) it just didn't make any sense for us to waste anymore time. I am just so ready. So I started Estrace pills (estrogen) in August and took them until I got my period on September 13th (but seriously, WTF though?!?! that shit gave me the worst period evarrrrrr!!!). I was thrilled that my period came early; I was so afraid it was going to end up being a long drawn out cycle just because that's how luck would have it. But good old AF knew what was good for her and showed up on CD25 at which point I stopped the Estrace and went in for monitoring. I started injections on CD3, which I am making MH give me. I told him we were making this baby together goddammit, even if it was ultimately in a science lab!!!! I had purchased two bags of chocolate chips about six weeks ago and was saving them for our two weeks of meds. I figured it would be our reward for getting through it. I was seriously terrified of how the meds would affect me mentally; I have had a history of going completely BSC on BCPs. After everything I have been through with my mental health I just really didn't want anything to screw up how amazingly good I have been feeling. (By the way, it's worth mentioning that I got through those shitty Ativan withdrawals finally and came out on the other side! It was so hard and such an awful bitch, but I am now feeling the best I have felt in years; since even before I went off my meds in 2012!!!) So last week I made our first batch of cookies--I jokingly called them "fertility cookies"--and crossed my fingers as we took the plunge:
Now, I swear to you, I have just had a really good feeling about this since the beginning. Like, really good. I just feel like......I know it's going to work. I know our baby (or babies--!!) will come to us. So, I'm kind of starting to get suspicious now. It all started with getting a blessedly short cycle. Then......dude: the meds have not affected me at all. Like, not even a little bit! okay, well maybe a little, but only in the sense that I have been getting teary eyed and sentimental but like, who cares about that, right? Oh, and also HOLY EWCM. Ummmm......DUDE. But yeah, other than that it's been really smooth sailing! And the best news is......I GET TO TRIGGER TOMORROW!!! I was told it would be 9-13 days and--yup, you guessed it--tomorrow is day nine! The shortest possible time! My retrieval will be on Wednesday. I am so fucking excited. And also.....suspicious that this is all going a little too well. I mean, this will even put me at an ideal EDD as a teacher and for having a kid's birthday.................But I am pushing that out of my mind as best I can and remaining positive. I just feel it. It's happening. Everything is happening..................
Along with a summer squash in the corner. Because you know; everyone needs a squash when they do IVF injections. Annnnnyway, everything has been happening right on schedule, better than I could have ever even anticipated. We decided to skip the IUIs and go straight for IVF. Insurance covered it 100%!!! Turns out we are dealing with MFI after all (very low morph) so especially with my age (35) it just didn't make any sense for us to waste anymore time. I am just so ready. So I started Estrace pills (estrogen) in August and took them until I got my period on September 13th (but seriously, WTF though?!?! that shit gave me the worst period evarrrrrr!!!). I was thrilled that my period came early; I was so afraid it was going to end up being a long drawn out cycle just because that's how luck would have it. But good old AF knew what was good for her and showed up on CD25 at which point I stopped the Estrace and went in for monitoring. I started injections on CD3, which I am making MH give me. I told him we were making this baby together goddammit, even if it was ultimately in a science lab!!!! I had purchased two bags of chocolate chips about six weeks ago and was saving them for our two weeks of meds. I figured it would be our reward for getting through it. I was seriously terrified of how the meds would affect me mentally; I have had a history of going completely BSC on BCPs. After everything I have been through with my mental health I just really didn't want anything to screw up how amazingly good I have been feeling. (By the way, it's worth mentioning that I got through those shitty Ativan withdrawals finally and came out on the other side! It was so hard and such an awful bitch, but I am now feeling the best I have felt in years; since even before I went off my meds in 2012!!!) So last week I made our first batch of cookies--I jokingly called them "fertility cookies"--and crossed my fingers as we took the plunge:
Now, I swear to you, I have just had a really good feeling about this since the beginning. Like, really good. I just feel like......I know it's going to work. I know our baby (or babies--!!) will come to us. So, I'm kind of starting to get suspicious now. It all started with getting a blessedly short cycle. Then......dude: the meds have not affected me at all. Like, not even a little bit! okay, well maybe a little, but only in the sense that I have been getting teary eyed and sentimental but like, who cares about that, right? Oh, and also HOLY EWCM. Ummmm......DUDE. But yeah, other than that it's been really smooth sailing! And the best news is......I GET TO TRIGGER TOMORROW!!! I was told it would be 9-13 days and--yup, you guessed it--tomorrow is day nine! The shortest possible time! My retrieval will be on Wednesday. I am so fucking excited. And also.....suspicious that this is all going a little too well. I mean, this will even put me at an ideal EDD as a teacher and for having a kid's birthday.................But I am pushing that out of my mind as best I can and remaining positive. I just feel it. It's happening. Everything is happening..................
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Amazing.
It is amazing what you can accomplish when you are not depressed. So in other words, it's amazing to realize how most regular people go about living their daily lives. I came to this realization the other day that for the first time in two years I feel normal. Yes, you heard me right--the meds are WORKING!!! I am not depressed!!!! My doctor at Mayo told me that my depression and anxiety were most likely even worse than I thought and that they were affecting my life much more than I even realized. I heard her, but I didn't really think about it. I mean, I have been dealing with this for fifteen years now, and I thought I knew everything. I have been medicated since the age of 20, have been hospitalized twice, and have gone on and off meds three times before this fourth and final time two years ago. But she was right; I didn't realize how much my mental illness was affecting every single aspect of my life. I'll explain.
So, most people without actual mental illness feel depressed sometimes. That's normal. You might feel bummed about the weather. Or maybe you just had a crappy day. Or you're tired and don't want to do much. You might end up thinking about family/friends/pets who passed away, or old girlfriends/boyfriends, shitty bosses, bad stuff you did........but when it comes down to it you can live your life like a functional person. Someone with MDD (major depressive disorder) and/or GAD (generalized anxiety disorder, most frequently paired together but not always) doesn't. Everything is a big deal; every day little things like tending the litter box or cooking dinner or taking the dog out or making the bed......those things can sometimes be so hard. It's very serious, and I don't think it's taken seriously enough, because of the fact that most of us know someone (or someones) who has taken antidepressants at one point or another. Some people had post-partum depression. Some people needed extra help after their mom passed away, or to get through school, or whatever. I'm not at all saying that these people shouldn't take meds; by all means if it helps them to feel good then they should do whatever is necessary. My point is that most of the time those people do not not need to be on meds permanently; it is not a lifelong incurable illness they are dealing with. People who do have mental illness are not taken seriously enough because most people don't understand it. It's more than just feeling sad. It's feeling hopeless, worthless, meaningless, devoid of self confidence, beyond reason, completely drained of energy and the capacity to deal with life. It's a lifelong battle that will never fully come to an end. For me, my house was always so dirty. I felt worthless as a wife because how could I ever expect to have kids when I couldn't even clean up after my husband and myself and three cats? I would tell myself I was going to clean the next day and then I would wake up and not do it. I would watch TV for hours when my husband wasn't around, because what would I do instead? Think about how shitty everything is and how I have no friends? Who would want to listen to me anyway?
The last two years have been unfathomably difficult, and it started with me deciding to go off my meds in the summer of 2012 so we could start trying for a family. Everything from that moment on just went downhill and kept on going down the deepest hole I could have ever imagined. Between my pelvic pain, losing my job, my husband's misery at his own job, managing his bipolar disorder, having surgery, coming down with my stomach illness, losing our precious cat, not being medicated and doctors, doctors, doctors it has been almost unbearable at times. I wished for my death every day. I stopped caring. If this was what life was like then what was the point? Had I been medicated all of these things still would have happened, but my capacity to handle them wouldn't have been so compromised.
I am currently dealing with tapering off of Ativan which is incredibly difficult and sucks, but I know it's all for good reasons (cannot take it during pregnancy). I am down to a quarter of a miligram this week and will take my last dose on Friday. Then that's it. It sucks because physiologically it makes me feel pretty crappy. However on Monday I went to school to talk to my principal and do a few things to prepare for going back to school next week. It was pretty mellow but I had a bad headache from the withdrawals. When I got home I wanted to lay down and chill but I knew I had to change the litter box because it smelled really bad. So I decided I would do that first so that I could really relax. Then I decided I had done that I might as well vacuum. Then I thought, well since I did that I might as well......and before I knew it I had had two productive hours that were not even that big a deal. I stopped suddenly and realized....then meds are working. I am starting to actually feel better. I just know that once the effects of this shitty Ativan wear off everything will be different. So much better. I can't wait.
So, most people without actual mental illness feel depressed sometimes. That's normal. You might feel bummed about the weather. Or maybe you just had a crappy day. Or you're tired and don't want to do much. You might end up thinking about family/friends/pets who passed away, or old girlfriends/boyfriends, shitty bosses, bad stuff you did........but when it comes down to it you can live your life like a functional person. Someone with MDD (major depressive disorder) and/or GAD (generalized anxiety disorder, most frequently paired together but not always) doesn't. Everything is a big deal; every day little things like tending the litter box or cooking dinner or taking the dog out or making the bed......those things can sometimes be so hard. It's very serious, and I don't think it's taken seriously enough, because of the fact that most of us know someone (or someones) who has taken antidepressants at one point or another. Some people had post-partum depression. Some people needed extra help after their mom passed away, or to get through school, or whatever. I'm not at all saying that these people shouldn't take meds; by all means if it helps them to feel good then they should do whatever is necessary. My point is that most of the time those people do not not need to be on meds permanently; it is not a lifelong incurable illness they are dealing with. People who do have mental illness are not taken seriously enough because most people don't understand it. It's more than just feeling sad. It's feeling hopeless, worthless, meaningless, devoid of self confidence, beyond reason, completely drained of energy and the capacity to deal with life. It's a lifelong battle that will never fully come to an end. For me, my house was always so dirty. I felt worthless as a wife because how could I ever expect to have kids when I couldn't even clean up after my husband and myself and three cats? I would tell myself I was going to clean the next day and then I would wake up and not do it. I would watch TV for hours when my husband wasn't around, because what would I do instead? Think about how shitty everything is and how I have no friends? Who would want to listen to me anyway?
The last two years have been unfathomably difficult, and it started with me deciding to go off my meds in the summer of 2012 so we could start trying for a family. Everything from that moment on just went downhill and kept on going down the deepest hole I could have ever imagined. Between my pelvic pain, losing my job, my husband's misery at his own job, managing his bipolar disorder, having surgery, coming down with my stomach illness, losing our precious cat, not being medicated and doctors, doctors, doctors it has been almost unbearable at times. I wished for my death every day. I stopped caring. If this was what life was like then what was the point? Had I been medicated all of these things still would have happened, but my capacity to handle them wouldn't have been so compromised.
I am currently dealing with tapering off of Ativan which is incredibly difficult and sucks, but I know it's all for good reasons (cannot take it during pregnancy). I am down to a quarter of a miligram this week and will take my last dose on Friday. Then that's it. It sucks because physiologically it makes me feel pretty crappy. However on Monday I went to school to talk to my principal and do a few things to prepare for going back to school next week. It was pretty mellow but I had a bad headache from the withdrawals. When I got home I wanted to lay down and chill but I knew I had to change the litter box because it smelled really bad. So I decided I would do that first so that I could really relax. Then I decided I had done that I might as well vacuum. Then I thought, well since I did that I might as well......and before I knew it I had had two productive hours that were not even that big a deal. I stopped suddenly and realized....then meds are working. I am starting to actually feel better. I just know that once the effects of this shitty Ativan wear off everything will be different. So much better. I can't wait.
Friday, August 22, 2014
I'm Cycling Next Month!!!!
I'm so fucking excited!!! I spoke to my nurse at the RE's today and she told me that we will most likely start cycling before my next period! That's one month sooner than I thought we would be cycling and puts me in a perfect spot for where I want to be birth month-wise (so psyched it just happened to work out that way). I'm praying that this will all work out and that it will give me a take home baby. We are so ready (well, as ready as we'll ever be; is anyone ever really truly ready?) to be parents.
My meds are worked out for now. One good thing that came out of that horrible experience two weeks ago (see my last post) is that I was able to cut my Ativan dose in half since I had already gone through all the withdrawals. I will have to cut it out completely before I start cycling but that shouldn't be too hard since it is only half a miligram at this point. I will cut it in half next week and then cut it out altogether. I am taking ten miligrams of Lexapro and will continue on with that permanently. I am going to see my psychiatrist next week to get clearance from her for my RE. They want a letter stating what my treatment will be during my pregnancy. I will keep close contact with her so that if my dosage needs to be upped at all we can do that. I hope the appointment goes well; I think it should.
Next Friday I am getting a saline sonogram as well as all the results from our genetic counselor. We will also have all of our other test results back by then. So far, I think we are looking at slight MFI (low morph) but considering that they have said people can often get pregnant naturally with that I am feeling a diagnosis of "unexplained infertility" in our future. But I guess we will see and know by next Friday!!!! Then we will also get to determine whether we are going to go with IUI or IVF. Honestly, I'm hoping for IVF. I want the embryos for the future so that we don't have to go through this shit again when we want to try for a second child, especially considering my age.
This is all very exciting. I think, for the first time in two years, things are finally starting to look up for us, at least a little bit. I don't want to jinx anything, and I'm sure it won't be the last time we experience hard times, but I have to say that these past two years very nearly broke us (as people, not our marriage--that's now stronger than ever). I feel like if I can live through all of that then I can live through anything.
Monday, August 11, 2014
On a Related Note........
Now for the not so awesome stuff. My meds are seriously screwing with me. I haven't slept in two weeks. Last night I only slept for two hours. I finally had a nervous breakdown when my husband got up. School starts in three weeks. I can't go back feeling like this. My heart pounds all day, my whole body is shaking, my head is foggy and dizzy and my eyes hurt and have a hard time focusing. This is not right. The RE told me that he does not want me taking Ativan during pregnancy but that he was fine with the Lexapro. So I have not been taking the Ativan because I am afraid of getting addicted to it (it is a controlled substance and it is easy to get addicted--I have in the past because I took one each morning upon waking. I managed to get off of it pretty easily but I was already taking my SSRIs for a long time at that point). I cut my Lexapro dose in half because I felt it was too much and it was most definitely screwing with me way too much. The problem is now I don't know what's happening--am I having withdrawals from that? From the Ativan? Do I have to just stop the Lexapro altogether? I am beyond frustrated because I feel like no one can help me. I just keep having bad reaction to antidepressants now--even after taking them for so many years!! Honestly, the biggest mistake I have ever made in my life was to wean off of them. My life has been hell ever since (for other reasons) and because of the fact that I've not been medicated I have not been coping with everything very well. I had such high hopes after leaving Mayo and am literally devastated that the treatment plan is going like this. I was doing great with the small increments until just over two weeks ago. I am now going to look for a psychiatrist who specializes in reproductive psychiatry and can help me with treatment now, during and after pregnancy. I am well aware that this all needs to be under control before I can start cycling with the RE so I am really hoping that we can figure something out. Fuck. It just never, ever stops or gets any easier, does it?.........
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So I just got back from seeing my psychiatric nurse practitioner and my therapist AND I also spoke on the phone with a psychiatric nurse at the Mayo Clinic. I was completely freaking out when I wrote the first half of this post this morning, so I am a bit more stable now. Everyone is in agreement that I am suffering from withdrawals, all of my own idiotic doing. My doctor at Mayo told me to slowly raise my dosage of Lexapro by 5 mgs at a time which I had been doing. But at 15 it started to get to be too much and by 20 (target dosage) it was ridiculous. I couldn't handle it (even though that is the dose I took for ten years before stopping it in 2012). So I called and she told me to take 15. But I'm an asshole and thought "I felt best when I was at 10" so I decided I was going to do that. Terrible. Then I just abruptly stopped the Ativan even though I know that it is addictive as I mentioned before--but I didn't think about any of this. I didn't think "I may just be having withdrawals" because I freaked out thinking that it was all affecting me the way everything else has this past year and I spiraled. This is what happens. So now I will stay on 10 mgs of Lexapro and hopefully continue on that permanently. I will resume the Ativan for now and taper off once the Lexapro has taken full effect. Now maybe I can get some goddamn sleep and stop trying to do everything myself. I need to remember that these doctors all know what they are talking about.
The End.
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So I just got back from seeing my psychiatric nurse practitioner and my therapist AND I also spoke on the phone with a psychiatric nurse at the Mayo Clinic. I was completely freaking out when I wrote the first half of this post this morning, so I am a bit more stable now. Everyone is in agreement that I am suffering from withdrawals, all of my own idiotic doing. My doctor at Mayo told me to slowly raise my dosage of Lexapro by 5 mgs at a time which I had been doing. But at 15 it started to get to be too much and by 20 (target dosage) it was ridiculous. I couldn't handle it (even though that is the dose I took for ten years before stopping it in 2012). So I called and she told me to take 15. But I'm an asshole and thought "I felt best when I was at 10" so I decided I was going to do that. Terrible. Then I just abruptly stopped the Ativan even though I know that it is addictive as I mentioned before--but I didn't think about any of this. I didn't think "I may just be having withdrawals" because I freaked out thinking that it was all affecting me the way everything else has this past year and I spiraled. This is what happens. So now I will stay on 10 mgs of Lexapro and hopefully continue on that permanently. I will resume the Ativan for now and taper off once the Lexapro has taken full effect. Now maybe I can get some goddamn sleep and stop trying to do everything myself. I need to remember that these doctors all know what they are talking about.
The End.
The RE
Well, we saw the RE last Friday. First of all I will say that I absolutely LOVE our doctor! He was really kind and enthusiastic and very clear about all our treatment options. He pretty much laid it all out on the table. He said that he saw a very slightly low morph in the sperm count but that it was very common and we could very likely conceive on our own with it the way it is (though he did order a recheck). So far that's all we have as far as possible issues. We also did a lot more bloodwork as well as genetic testing. But the doctor basically said we just need to decide if we're going to do IUI or go straight to IVF. What?! I was a little shocked; I don't know why, I mean after all we were at a fertility clinic. I guess I just hadn't fully accepted the fact of us being "infertile" yet.
But we are. So we are waiting on test results to decide what we are going to do. Honestly, at first I was wanting to do 1-2 rounds of IUI but now I'm kind of leaning towards going straight to IVF. I feel like because I am 35 and at this point will not be giving birth until I am 36 I would like to have frozen embryos so that I don't have to worry about when to try for #2. But we have to see what insurance says too. The good news is that whatever treatment we choose is all covered! Depending on the test results though, they may make us do IUI before IVF since it is so much cheaper. So we will see. We also still have this month and next month to try on our own too, since I am in the 2WW right now and next month I will be doing cycle day bloods and all that fun stuff. So I think I will feel a little better about moving forward with everything at that point if I am still not pregnant after that.
I am honestly thrilled about this though. No matter what at this point, I now know that I will be having a baby at some point next year, whether we manage to get it done ourselves or if we need a little help from the doctors. We will soon have a plan in place, have an amazing team with crazy high success rates and a really great doctor who makes us both feel very comfortable and who is available to us anytime we need to ask questions. Awesome!
But we are. So we are waiting on test results to decide what we are going to do. Honestly, at first I was wanting to do 1-2 rounds of IUI but now I'm kind of leaning towards going straight to IVF. I feel like because I am 35 and at this point will not be giving birth until I am 36 I would like to have frozen embryos so that I don't have to worry about when to try for #2. But we have to see what insurance says too. The good news is that whatever treatment we choose is all covered! Depending on the test results though, they may make us do IUI before IVF since it is so much cheaper. So we will see. We also still have this month and next month to try on our own too, since I am in the 2WW right now and next month I will be doing cycle day bloods and all that fun stuff. So I think I will feel a little better about moving forward with everything at that point if I am still not pregnant after that.
I am honestly thrilled about this though. No matter what at this point, I now know that I will be having a baby at some point next year, whether we manage to get it done ourselves or if we need a little help from the doctors. We will soon have a plan in place, have an amazing team with crazy high success rates and a really great doctor who makes us both feel very comfortable and who is available to us anytime we need to ask questions. Awesome!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
We're Going to the RE!
Well I finally decided that it was better to make an appointment while I am not in school yet just in case I have to do a lot of running around. I want to take as little time off as possible in order to make sure that any sick time I have goes to future maternity leave if needed. I figured it has certainly been plenty of time--that's 6 months with charting and temping and 10 months of unprotected sex. I'm 35 now so the 6 months is enough. I was going to wait until October to make the appointment but at this point I'm done. I just want to see what they have to say. MH was fighting me on it a little bit but my feeling is if they say they see nothing then I suppose we'll keep trying for another couple of months before we move on to treatment. But what if they do find something? At this point we don't have time to waste anymore. My age is a huge factor and I DON'T want to just wait around without any knowledge anymore. So we're going on Friday. We have viewed the videos on their website and sent them all our medical history and filled out all the paperwork. We're fucking going. And I'm very excited! I'm nervous--but excited. I just want to have a plan at this point.
I am doing a little better health wise, but I'm having some trouble adjusting to my meds. I was fine at 5 and 10 mgs but when I went up to 15 and now 20.....I'm having a hard time. I am not sleeping--like, waking up every half hour not sleeping. And also some other stuff. I'm hoping it will pass, but I may have to scale back. I'm going to contact my doctor. I will of course share all of this with the RE and I realize that it's not ideal for me to be going through this while trying to get pregnant but I don't even care. I know it will all get worked out soon. I've felt worse than this and I've been through worse! Again; no time to fucking waste anymore. Time to get this show on the road! MH starts his new job on August 25th, I go back to work September 2nd. I'd like to have an idea of where I stand with meds and TTC by then.
I am doing a little better health wise, but I'm having some trouble adjusting to my meds. I was fine at 5 and 10 mgs but when I went up to 15 and now 20.....I'm having a hard time. I am not sleeping--like, waking up every half hour not sleeping. And also some other stuff. I'm hoping it will pass, but I may have to scale back. I'm going to contact my doctor. I will of course share all of this with the RE and I realize that it's not ideal for me to be going through this while trying to get pregnant but I don't even care. I know it will all get worked out soon. I've felt worse than this and I've been through worse! Again; no time to fucking waste anymore. Time to get this show on the road! MH starts his new job on August 25th, I go back to work September 2nd. I'd like to have an idea of where I stand with meds and TTC by then.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Some words about destressing.........
So if you haven't read my last post(s) I have been sick for basically two years straight with crazy mystery illnesses that while very real were hugely exacerbated by stress. Since I have come to the final realization that yes, I will need to take SSRIs for the rest of my life, I know that will be a huge thing that will help me feel better. MH has bipolar disorder which is pretty well under control, but if you know anything about bipolar disorder, just like depression there are flareups. They are more frequent and more serious than with regular depressive disorder, but we do okay. Here's the kicker: in the past two years since I have been off my meds and I have been sick and had crazy shit happen with jobs and he hates his job and is dealing with his own mood disorder.........well shit, it has been SO HARD to try and hold each other up! I mean damn near impossible. The summer before I got sick (2012) we made a big move out of the metropolitan area into the mountains to try and find respite from the craziness down there. We have been very happy with our move; we rented a little house on a lake. Everything is quiet, people are nicer and the pace of life is real slow and pleasant. The problem is that everyone up here pretty much commutes back down to the area we moved from because that's where the jobs are. So we wake up super early, fight through the hour commute (sometimes more if there is an accident or if the traffic is really bad for some reason unbeknowst to anyone ever) and drag ourselves to jobs that are overly stressful. Then we fight through the commute again.
Life is just crazy. I know that there is no such thing as a life without stress. I just think things in our society have gotten way out of control and there really feels like no way around it sometimes. You have to work so much harder nowadays to make less money and everything is just so fucking expensive. Especially where we live. Plus everyone is competing for space in this congested area and people are pissed off and angry all the time. We are trying to figure out what the best solution is. While we truly do love it here and have friends and NYC and MH's family closeby, sometimes I think that it is not the healthiest thing for us to be living here. Sometimes I think we would do a lot better living in, say California. My mom lives there, so we would still have family. But there would be fresh air and sunshine year round, warmer weather and fresh produce available year round. Plus the lifestyle is so much more laid back (we would be moving about an hour and a half north of LA, so none of that nonsense). Even though we would miss it here sometimes I just think that health wise it might be a wise decision. MH hates the winter. He is very affected by it and his mood is much worse during the dark, cold months. He despises shoveling and snow. I don't mind it; in fact I even like it! But I do admit that it gets old after a while and I think if we just made a point to come out at Christmas every year then we could get our time in the snow and cold and really appreciate it and then come home. My mom is also a huge support for us and would absolutely die to have us live near her. I have always thought of myself as so "east coast" but I don't really know if that's necessarily the healthiest thing for me in a lot of respects. When I go to CA I'm always like "this shit is so slow!" but isn't that better really? I mean, out here everyone is constantly in a rush and the stress is enough to make your head explode.
Don't get me wrong--again; I know there is no such thing as a life without stress. I don't expect that we will go live on some tropical island and never have to work again and live life like every day is vacation (but wouldn't that be nice?). If we could get jobs close to home and never have to worry about leaving the mountain then I wouldn't worry. But it's not reality. Since beginning this post MH got a new job that he is very excited about. But still with the commute. My job is absolutely ridiculous as far as stress is concerned. I am looking into getting into a different line of work altogether. I don't even know what I am doing.
But anyway, those are my thoughts for the day. If we did move it wouldn't be for another year; maybe next summer. I just need to see how things play out for us.
Life is just crazy. I know that there is no such thing as a life without stress. I just think things in our society have gotten way out of control and there really feels like no way around it sometimes. You have to work so much harder nowadays to make less money and everything is just so fucking expensive. Especially where we live. Plus everyone is competing for space in this congested area and people are pissed off and angry all the time. We are trying to figure out what the best solution is. While we truly do love it here and have friends and NYC and MH's family closeby, sometimes I think that it is not the healthiest thing for us to be living here. Sometimes I think we would do a lot better living in, say California. My mom lives there, so we would still have family. But there would be fresh air and sunshine year round, warmer weather and fresh produce available year round. Plus the lifestyle is so much more laid back (we would be moving about an hour and a half north of LA, so none of that nonsense). Even though we would miss it here sometimes I just think that health wise it might be a wise decision. MH hates the winter. He is very affected by it and his mood is much worse during the dark, cold months. He despises shoveling and snow. I don't mind it; in fact I even like it! But I do admit that it gets old after a while and I think if we just made a point to come out at Christmas every year then we could get our time in the snow and cold and really appreciate it and then come home. My mom is also a huge support for us and would absolutely die to have us live near her. I have always thought of myself as so "east coast" but I don't really know if that's necessarily the healthiest thing for me in a lot of respects. When I go to CA I'm always like "this shit is so slow!" but isn't that better really? I mean, out here everyone is constantly in a rush and the stress is enough to make your head explode.
Don't get me wrong--again; I know there is no such thing as a life without stress. I don't expect that we will go live on some tropical island and never have to work again and live life like every day is vacation (but wouldn't that be nice?). If we could get jobs close to home and never have to worry about leaving the mountain then I wouldn't worry. But it's not reality. Since beginning this post MH got a new job that he is very excited about. But still with the commute. My job is absolutely ridiculous as far as stress is concerned. I am looking into getting into a different line of work altogether. I don't even know what I am doing.
But anyway, those are my thoughts for the day. If we did move it wouldn't be for another year; maybe next summer. I just need to see how things play out for us.
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Aaaaaaand she lands........oof.
Well for those who have been following me I apologize for taking so long to write again. For those who give no fucks, well here I am again. Heeeeere's Cat!
So it happened. I made it through to the last day of school. It was pure torture. On many levels. But more on that later. On the last day of school I brought with me a suitcase and a bag. When the clock struck one my cousin picked me up from school and took me directly to the airport where I boarded a plane that brought me to Minnesota. The next day, first thing in the morning I saw my new doctor. At the Mayo Clinic.
Yes friends, I finally made it to Mayo. My mom met me there and spent the entire week there with me. I had all the tests and saw all the doctors. This was unlike any experience I have ever had before. First of all, I totally expected to be overwhelmed, stressed, confused and hurried which turned out to be anything BUT the case. The Mayo Clinic was like a well oiled machine, with everything laid out in such an organized fashion that it was almost impossible to get lost. There was no hurrying. No stress. No rushing. It was so mellow. There was live music in various areas in the buildings and everyone was so nice. Although to be fair, I have heard that "Minnesota Niceness" is an actual thing. But the best thing was that I felt so good about the quality of care that I received. All these doctors worked together as a team to help me put all the pieces together. My situation is multifaceted and complex but is ultimately manageable.
Basically what I have is a funtional GI disorder called "funtional dyspepsia". I knew it was a functional problem; I had been saying it since the beginning. I am not allergic to any foods, I don't have an autoimmune disease, I don't have leaky gut. MY GUT IS NOT FUNCTIONING RIGHT!!!!! Too many people scared the shit out of me forever, trying to tell me I had any number of issues until I finally had to just stop talking to people about it. Which really sucks. But I digress.........anyway functional dyspepsia is when your body is actually fine but thinks it isn't and starts acting like it has an ulcer and stuff. It's likely a reaction to stress, and my surgery was a stressful "event" that happened in my body and it didn't get a chance to reprogram. Anyway, I will spare you the details but basically I have to watch my breathing, eat smaller meals, chew my food really well, make sure I don't go too long without eating and I have to take this herbal supplement before I eat called Iberogast (yup, my GI prescribed me an herbal supplement). And I have to go back on my depression medication. The mind/gut connection is fierce in me, and I need to get my shit together. So I'm taking small steps to get back on Lexapro and stay on it forever. Through pregnancy, breastfeeding, everything. No more being without serotonin. Because it's just been so bad. So hopefully I can start feeling better.
There it is! It's crazy to think that everything is over and I no longer have to be a professional sick person. No more running around to a million doctors or trying to figure out what's wrong. It's over.
So it happened. I made it through to the last day of school. It was pure torture. On many levels. But more on that later. On the last day of school I brought with me a suitcase and a bag. When the clock struck one my cousin picked me up from school and took me directly to the airport where I boarded a plane that brought me to Minnesota. The next day, first thing in the morning I saw my new doctor. At the Mayo Clinic.
Yes friends, I finally made it to Mayo. My mom met me there and spent the entire week there with me. I had all the tests and saw all the doctors. This was unlike any experience I have ever had before. First of all, I totally expected to be overwhelmed, stressed, confused and hurried which turned out to be anything BUT the case. The Mayo Clinic was like a well oiled machine, with everything laid out in such an organized fashion that it was almost impossible to get lost. There was no hurrying. No stress. No rushing. It was so mellow. There was live music in various areas in the buildings and everyone was so nice. Although to be fair, I have heard that "Minnesota Niceness" is an actual thing. But the best thing was that I felt so good about the quality of care that I received. All these doctors worked together as a team to help me put all the pieces together. My situation is multifaceted and complex but is ultimately manageable.
Basically what I have is a funtional GI disorder called "funtional dyspepsia". I knew it was a functional problem; I had been saying it since the beginning. I am not allergic to any foods, I don't have an autoimmune disease, I don't have leaky gut. MY GUT IS NOT FUNCTIONING RIGHT!!!!! Too many people scared the shit out of me forever, trying to tell me I had any number of issues until I finally had to just stop talking to people about it. Which really sucks. But I digress.........anyway functional dyspepsia is when your body is actually fine but thinks it isn't and starts acting like it has an ulcer and stuff. It's likely a reaction to stress, and my surgery was a stressful "event" that happened in my body and it didn't get a chance to reprogram. Anyway, I will spare you the details but basically I have to watch my breathing, eat smaller meals, chew my food really well, make sure I don't go too long without eating and I have to take this herbal supplement before I eat called Iberogast (yup, my GI prescribed me an herbal supplement). And I have to go back on my depression medication. The mind/gut connection is fierce in me, and I need to get my shit together. So I'm taking small steps to get back on Lexapro and stay on it forever. Through pregnancy, breastfeeding, everything. No more being without serotonin. Because it's just been so bad. So hopefully I can start feeling better.
There it is! It's crazy to think that everything is over and I no longer have to be a professional sick person. No more running around to a million doctors or trying to figure out what's wrong. It's over.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Mother's Day
Well, it is Mother's Day. I honestly don't know how I feel or where I even belong. I'm not necessarily infertile.......but I have not been pregnant yet. We started trying almost two years ago.......but have not been able to try the whole time. I want to try........but want to be healthy before we do again. All of our one year testing came back fine (at one year and five months)........but we can't go any further than that until I am better or at least have answers as to what is wrong with me.
So fuck today. I had a little breakdown today which I honestly wasn't excpecting. I had dreams about Stanley last night and I woke up crying. I cannot forgive myself for not giving him a proper burial/cremation. He deserved better than just being thrown in with all the other animals and being scattered in some park. I still miss him terribly. I am terrified that I will never feel good again. I know I need to stop, but I can't help feeling like going to Mayo in June is my last hope. What if they can't help me? What if they don't know anyone who can? What if they just tell me this is the way it's going to be forever; that there's nothing that can be done? What if they do something to screw me up even worse? I just don't understand why all of this had to happen to me. It has stolen the last two years of my life. And to make matters worse I am going to be 35 in a week and a half. Old. Advanced maternal age. And not even one child to show for it. I am worried that my husband will always be miserable in his work. I am worried that I will never find a job that is truly right for me, one that I'm not just settling for. I want so badly to be able to go back on depression medication but I react so poorly to it now that I don't know if I can/should stand it. Perhaps the side effects will dissipate if I give it two weeks? I don't know. And I have put on some weight so that my pants are fitting kind of tight. Not good. Why do things have to be so tough right now and when the fuck are they going to get better? I feel like I need big changes. I have no friends around me anymore. I think people are tired of hearing about my problems. I try really hard not to talk about it much, but when people ask how I am feeling what am I supposed to do? Lie? I try to just brush it off and say as little as I can. I try to remain positive. I think the bottom line is too that most people my age are busy with families that H and I don't have.
So honestly.....fuck everything right now.
So fuck today. I had a little breakdown today which I honestly wasn't excpecting. I had dreams about Stanley last night and I woke up crying. I cannot forgive myself for not giving him a proper burial/cremation. He deserved better than just being thrown in with all the other animals and being scattered in some park. I still miss him terribly. I am terrified that I will never feel good again. I know I need to stop, but I can't help feeling like going to Mayo in June is my last hope. What if they can't help me? What if they don't know anyone who can? What if they just tell me this is the way it's going to be forever; that there's nothing that can be done? What if they do something to screw me up even worse? I just don't understand why all of this had to happen to me. It has stolen the last two years of my life. And to make matters worse I am going to be 35 in a week and a half. Old. Advanced maternal age. And not even one child to show for it. I am worried that my husband will always be miserable in his work. I am worried that I will never find a job that is truly right for me, one that I'm not just settling for. I want so badly to be able to go back on depression medication but I react so poorly to it now that I don't know if I can/should stand it. Perhaps the side effects will dissipate if I give it two weeks? I don't know. And I have put on some weight so that my pants are fitting kind of tight. Not good. Why do things have to be so tough right now and when the fuck are they going to get better? I feel like I need big changes. I have no friends around me anymore. I think people are tired of hearing about my problems. I try really hard not to talk about it much, but when people ask how I am feeling what am I supposed to do? Lie? I try to just brush it off and say as little as I can. I try to remain positive. I think the bottom line is too that most people my age are busy with families that H and I don't have.
So honestly.....fuck everything right now.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
It's been a while.......
It's been too long since I've blogged. I keep thinking about it, but then I forget or I realize that I have something better to do. Or, if I'm being honest, I just haven't fucking felt like it considering I have nothing new to say. But now I think maybe it's time to come back into the game.
Things are a little weird for me right now. That's all I can say. It's not all bad, some of it is really good. But it's just......weird. Different. Almost like I can feel the tides changing. Which is great because I reeeeeally need it.
My job is likely going to become permanent. That's great; I just wish it were closer to being my dream job. I know sometimes you have to "make" your dream job, as in I need to find ways to make it be better. But I don't see that happening, since what I don't like about it is teaching pre-K-1. 2 is almost acceptable. 3 is okay but not my favorite. 4 is where the fun starts and for me continues up through 8 even though they are challenging. Honestly I just don't really like teaching general music; I just want to teach choir and music history/music appreciation. But this job is manageable for me and fun and I really like the faculty and adminsitration, plus the kids are nice and I could see myself feeing comfortable in the culture of the district. It is very small. So I like it, am glad it will become permanent and will be happy to go back next year but I will still be applying to things that come up that I feel I might like better or that are closer (right now I have about a 45-50 minute commute).
I have made an appointment to go to the Mayo clinic in Minnesota as soon as school gets out. My NYC doctor is blowing me off and I've had it. Mayo has the number one gastroenterology department in the country; I read an article in the fall that sounded like what I think I have where this girl had been to many doctors before the helped her at Mayo; I also know someone who went there when she had no luck with the doctors in her town and they helped her. So I'm going. Part of me feel like I might be jumping the gun a little considering that I live near NYC and so many hospitals and doctors, but I just don't know where else to go. I went to a New Jersey doctor who was totally lame, then moved on to my current doctor who is at NYU Langone--like, where do you go from there??? Who can I look for that would have more knowledge than there? I'm not doubting that someone exists, it's just that I don't know who they might be or where/how to find out. I am fully 100% convinced at this point that this is muscular and somehow related to my surgery and I can't even get ahold of my doctor to discuss it with him. I started these special stretching sessions to see if it would help and it made it worse within a week. Do I know for certain that is why I got worse? No. But do I know for certain that is NOT why I got worse? No. Ergo Mayo. Enough fucking around and taking shots in the dark. Take me to the experts and let me get on with my life.
So that's where I am now. H is miserable at his job but that isn't going to change for a little while. But we're working on it. Some new musical possibilities are on the horizon, but I'll save it for another post.
Things are a little weird for me right now. That's all I can say. It's not all bad, some of it is really good. But it's just......weird. Different. Almost like I can feel the tides changing. Which is great because I reeeeeally need it.
My job is likely going to become permanent. That's great; I just wish it were closer to being my dream job. I know sometimes you have to "make" your dream job, as in I need to find ways to make it be better. But I don't see that happening, since what I don't like about it is teaching pre-K-1. 2 is almost acceptable. 3 is okay but not my favorite. 4 is where the fun starts and for me continues up through 8 even though they are challenging. Honestly I just don't really like teaching general music; I just want to teach choir and music history/music appreciation. But this job is manageable for me and fun and I really like the faculty and adminsitration, plus the kids are nice and I could see myself feeing comfortable in the culture of the district. It is very small. So I like it, am glad it will become permanent and will be happy to go back next year but I will still be applying to things that come up that I feel I might like better or that are closer (right now I have about a 45-50 minute commute).
I have made an appointment to go to the Mayo clinic in Minnesota as soon as school gets out. My NYC doctor is blowing me off and I've had it. Mayo has the number one gastroenterology department in the country; I read an article in the fall that sounded like what I think I have where this girl had been to many doctors before the helped her at Mayo; I also know someone who went there when she had no luck with the doctors in her town and they helped her. So I'm going. Part of me feel like I might be jumping the gun a little considering that I live near NYC and so many hospitals and doctors, but I just don't know where else to go. I went to a New Jersey doctor who was totally lame, then moved on to my current doctor who is at NYU Langone--like, where do you go from there??? Who can I look for that would have more knowledge than there? I'm not doubting that someone exists, it's just that I don't know who they might be or where/how to find out. I am fully 100% convinced at this point that this is muscular and somehow related to my surgery and I can't even get ahold of my doctor to discuss it with him. I started these special stretching sessions to see if it would help and it made it worse within a week. Do I know for certain that is why I got worse? No. But do I know for certain that is NOT why I got worse? No. Ergo Mayo. Enough fucking around and taking shots in the dark. Take me to the experts and let me get on with my life.
So that's where I am now. H is miserable at his job but that isn't going to change for a little while. But we're working on it. Some new musical possibilities are on the horizon, but I'll save it for another post.
Monday, March 10, 2014
God/The Universe
Can go fuck itself. I have in the past been such a spiritual person and as much as I want to try and go back to it I just struggle with it too much now. I just can't believe that all this crap would happen to me if there really were such thing as a higher power watching over me. I know it could be worse--I know that. I know I could be dying or hungry or whatever. But my life has just been this trickle down of awfulness since summer of 2012 and everything that transpires just ends up being worse than the thing before. I have tried over and over again to be positive and change the way I think about things but higher power is honestly just too much for me to accept. Stanley's death just nailed the coffin for that as far as I'm concerned. Just fuck everything.
I had a terrible weekend. My husband had to work so I pretty much stayed home alone all weekend with Mingus and Lulu and cried. I miss my cat so much it is hard to breathe sometimes. I feel like I've had a piece of my heart ripped out. I keep thinking about how I left him there, dead, and couldn't do anything about it. I feel moments where I think I should have at least tried to get him to the big hospital for tests, but then I go back to knowing how bad it was and how much he truly was suffering and would have continued to suffer. I think about how horrible it would have been to be thinking about him all alone at the house all day while I was at work, worrying that today would be the day I would come home and find him dead and not know what happened. I think about how much money I would have spent and he would have ended up dying anyway. I think about panicking and taking him back and forth to the vet. I loved that cat so much there just aren't even enough words to express it. And I feel like I failed him. I should have taken his ashes. I shouldn't have thrown out his food dish in a moment of feeling like I couldn't look at it there. I should have gotten a lock of his fur. All I have left is this beautiful paw print. I feel so guilty even though deep down I know I shouldn't. I think beating myself up about it just makes me feel like I might have someone to be mad at (me). I don't know what else to do.
My stupid stomach illness isn't getting better. I am going to see my doctor on Wednesday (thank goodness) but I am terrified of what he is going to say at this point. I have been through elimination diets. I have had rounds of antibiotics. I have had every test ever. What am I supposed to do?!?! I want to go back to TTC. Part of me just feels like, screw it, what is the worst that can happen? I mean if it hasn't happened by now it probably won't anyway. I am so discouraged by everything. And to top it all off, I am pretty sure I am having an anovulatory cycle or a really long one. I got my positive OPK on the day Stanley died and the day after. That was over a week ago and still no O. I know it is obviously because of the stress. I just fucking hate my body in every way right now.
I actually do have some good news though, which is that I really like my new job. I didn't think I was going to, and to be honest I almost didn't apply for it because I didn't want it. Which is of course why I think I ended up getting it. But it is working very well for me and seems to be a good fit which surprises me more than anyone I'm sure. It's a lot of fun so far and the kids are great. Perhaps my Stanley is guiding them to be good for me. I guess we'll see how it progresses.
I had a terrible weekend. My husband had to work so I pretty much stayed home alone all weekend with Mingus and Lulu and cried. I miss my cat so much it is hard to breathe sometimes. I feel like I've had a piece of my heart ripped out. I keep thinking about how I left him there, dead, and couldn't do anything about it. I feel moments where I think I should have at least tried to get him to the big hospital for tests, but then I go back to knowing how bad it was and how much he truly was suffering and would have continued to suffer. I think about how horrible it would have been to be thinking about him all alone at the house all day while I was at work, worrying that today would be the day I would come home and find him dead and not know what happened. I think about how much money I would have spent and he would have ended up dying anyway. I think about panicking and taking him back and forth to the vet. I loved that cat so much there just aren't even enough words to express it. And I feel like I failed him. I should have taken his ashes. I shouldn't have thrown out his food dish in a moment of feeling like I couldn't look at it there. I should have gotten a lock of his fur. All I have left is this beautiful paw print. I feel so guilty even though deep down I know I shouldn't. I think beating myself up about it just makes me feel like I might have someone to be mad at (me). I don't know what else to do.
My stupid stomach illness isn't getting better. I am going to see my doctor on Wednesday (thank goodness) but I am terrified of what he is going to say at this point. I have been through elimination diets. I have had rounds of antibiotics. I have had every test ever. What am I supposed to do?!?! I want to go back to TTC. Part of me just feels like, screw it, what is the worst that can happen? I mean if it hasn't happened by now it probably won't anyway. I am so discouraged by everything. And to top it all off, I am pretty sure I am having an anovulatory cycle or a really long one. I got my positive OPK on the day Stanley died and the day after. That was over a week ago and still no O. I know it is obviously because of the stress. I just fucking hate my body in every way right now.
I actually do have some good news though, which is that I really like my new job. I didn't think I was going to, and to be honest I almost didn't apply for it because I didn't want it. Which is of course why I think I ended up getting it. But it is working very well for me and seems to be a good fit which surprises me more than anyone I'm sure. It's a lot of fun so far and the kids are great. Perhaps my Stanley is guiding them to be good for me. I guess we'll see how it progresses.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Rainbows
Crying. My husband has seen me ugly cry more in the past week than anyone ever. If I'm honest, I don't think I've ever been this heartsick before. I am literally in pain from the loss of my Stanley. It's like there is a hole in my heart. In my life, in our family. I can't stand it. It has been one week since we had to put him to sleep and I can't get the images out of my head or the way that he died. It was horrible; so sudden and panicked and frantic and quick. I know he was suffering and deep down I know it was the right thing to do but I just can't stop feeling like I killed him. Like I took his life. It was too soon; I didn't want him to go that way. I wanted him to go lie down under a tree and die peacefully when he was 20 years old. That's what I hope for my other two. I feel gulity that I didn't take his ashes. I just didn't feel like I would ever trust that they were really his, and even if they were what would I have done with them? Kept them in some urn forever? Scattered them in the lake? He hated the water. In fact he was terrified to go outside most of the time. He was so silly; he would beg to go out and then he would stay outside for five minutes, eat as much grass as possible and then cry to come back inside where he would promptly throw it all up. On the carpet, of course. Plus it was almost $200 dollars. I think I just felt like why spend $200 for him to be dead anyway? But now I honestly regret it. I feel like I don't have anything left of him except the beautiful paw print the vet made for me. And the orange fur I find around the house on the cat tree and on the curtains and the blanket on the couch. That's the stuff that really kills me. I really thought he would outlive all of them. I miss him so much. It really truly hurts.
I can't help feeling like my life will never be the same. And it won't. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know that it won't hurt this much forever and I know that eventually I will be able to move on from it, but this has begun a huge shift in my life. It is the end of an era. I was 21 when I got Mingus and Lulu and 22 when we added Stanley. I am 34 now. I have brought these cats all over the northeast with me. Everything I did was based around them. Anywhere I went I made sure that they could come and would be welcomed. The only time I didn't was a relationship that lasted a little over two years which I deeply regret. They were my little family and I made them my first priority always. It seems so quiet and lonesome in the house with just two cats. Stanley and Mingus were best friends and Lulu and Stanley would always squabble loudly. Mingus and Lulu are pretty mellow together. They are mostly independent. They have been wonderful and trying to make up for it but I know how much they miss him too. Lulu has taken his spot sleeping up by our heads. She's not as snuggly as he was, so she kind of sleeps on top of our heads instead of right in between us. With Stan you could snuggle him like a teddy bear and he would just purr and go right to sleep. Mingus has been snuggling with me a lot, but he gets restless and leaves after a bit. Stanley would just cuddle up for hours. He was the one I was closest to. I love Mingus and Lulu to the moon and back and am very close to both of them, but Stanley was the cat version of me. If I went upstairs, he went upstairs. If I went downstairs he did too. He was very affectionate and loving and never aloof. It is not the same and never will be. And Mingus and Lulu are 13. Let's be honest; they don't have a whole lot of time left. And that makes me really sad too. I love them all so much and so does my husband. He loved them from the moment we got together and they became his cats too.
I started a new teaching job this week. It was so hard to come in on Monday morning after what happened last weekend, but at the same time it was a good thing to have something to keep my mind off of Stanley rather than sitting at home in paralyzing grief. Every day I held it together all day long and then got in my car and broke down after school. On Tuesday I was crying and thinking about my mother. My mother told me he would come to me somehow. She has told me stories of feeling her mother at a certain time and place after her mother had passed, or of a dream she had when we had to put my cat I grew up with to sleep. But that kind of thing never happens to me. I was crying and wishing it did. I said, "Stanley if you can hear me I wish you could give me a sign." And then......I swear to you, I looked out the window and saw this little patch of rainbow in the sky. You wouldn't have seen it unless you were paying attention. It wasn't an arch or even very large. But it was there and it stayed. I was overcome and started talking to him and bawling. I couldn't believe it. There he was, having crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Then on Thursday I had a dream about him. In the dream we were at the vet but he was fine. He was himself, not sick or scared. I could feel his fur--he had the softest fur; he never outgrew his kitten coat--and everything. I kept saying to the vet, "Didn't we already do this? Weren't we already here? Look at him; he's fine, do we really have to do this?" I know that was him, telling me he is fine. And then yesterday I saw another rainbow patch in the sky on my way home from school. I know he is trying to tell me he has crossed over and is okay and forgives me and understands. But somehow I don't feel any better.
I almost am worried about feeling better. It feels like if I start to feel better than I am letting him go and I am not ready to do that. I'm just not. It's like if I'm not grieving then I'm not honoring his memory. Deep down I know that is ridiculous, but I suppose that if I do start to feel better that will signify that I am ready to start letting him go. I think it's going to take a long time.
I can't help feeling like my life will never be the same. And it won't. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know that it won't hurt this much forever and I know that eventually I will be able to move on from it, but this has begun a huge shift in my life. It is the end of an era. I was 21 when I got Mingus and Lulu and 22 when we added Stanley. I am 34 now. I have brought these cats all over the northeast with me. Everything I did was based around them. Anywhere I went I made sure that they could come and would be welcomed. The only time I didn't was a relationship that lasted a little over two years which I deeply regret. They were my little family and I made them my first priority always. It seems so quiet and lonesome in the house with just two cats. Stanley and Mingus were best friends and Lulu and Stanley would always squabble loudly. Mingus and Lulu are pretty mellow together. They are mostly independent. They have been wonderful and trying to make up for it but I know how much they miss him too. Lulu has taken his spot sleeping up by our heads. She's not as snuggly as he was, so she kind of sleeps on top of our heads instead of right in between us. With Stan you could snuggle him like a teddy bear and he would just purr and go right to sleep. Mingus has been snuggling with me a lot, but he gets restless and leaves after a bit. Stanley would just cuddle up for hours. He was the one I was closest to. I love Mingus and Lulu to the moon and back and am very close to both of them, but Stanley was the cat version of me. If I went upstairs, he went upstairs. If I went downstairs he did too. He was very affectionate and loving and never aloof. It is not the same and never will be. And Mingus and Lulu are 13. Let's be honest; they don't have a whole lot of time left. And that makes me really sad too. I love them all so much and so does my husband. He loved them from the moment we got together and they became his cats too.
I started a new teaching job this week. It was so hard to come in on Monday morning after what happened last weekend, but at the same time it was a good thing to have something to keep my mind off of Stanley rather than sitting at home in paralyzing grief. Every day I held it together all day long and then got in my car and broke down after school. On Tuesday I was crying and thinking about my mother. My mother told me he would come to me somehow. She has told me stories of feeling her mother at a certain time and place after her mother had passed, or of a dream she had when we had to put my cat I grew up with to sleep. But that kind of thing never happens to me. I was crying and wishing it did. I said, "Stanley if you can hear me I wish you could give me a sign." And then......I swear to you, I looked out the window and saw this little patch of rainbow in the sky. You wouldn't have seen it unless you were paying attention. It wasn't an arch or even very large. But it was there and it stayed. I was overcome and started talking to him and bawling. I couldn't believe it. There he was, having crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Then on Thursday I had a dream about him. In the dream we were at the vet but he was fine. He was himself, not sick or scared. I could feel his fur--he had the softest fur; he never outgrew his kitten coat--and everything. I kept saying to the vet, "Didn't we already do this? Weren't we already here? Look at him; he's fine, do we really have to do this?" I know that was him, telling me he is fine. And then yesterday I saw another rainbow patch in the sky on my way home from school. I know he is trying to tell me he has crossed over and is okay and forgives me and understands. But somehow I don't feel any better.
I almost am worried about feeling better. It feels like if I start to feel better than I am letting him go and I am not ready to do that. I'm just not. It's like if I'm not grieving then I'm not honoring his memory. Deep down I know that is ridiculous, but I suppose that if I do start to feel better that will signify that I am ready to start letting him go. I think it's going to take a long time.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
So Cat.....where DID you grow up anyway?
I feel like twenty times a day I'm saying "I grew up there." "Where I grew up _______." "That happened where I grow up." And I'm always talking about different places. Someone recently asked me, "Were your parents military?" "Worse," I answered. "They were hippies."
Not that there's anything wrong with that! I am very much a hippie in a lot of ways myself. But my folks had a hard time getting their shit together when I was a kid. I was born on Martha's Vineyard, a now famous island of the coast of Cape Cod in Massachusetts. No, we were not rich or famous. When I was growing up the island was mostly made up of working class hippies; restauraneurs, fisherman, carpenters, small business owners. Sure, we had rich and famous tourists in the summer, but it was dead in the winter. It was after Bill Clinton came in the 90's that things really started to change in my opinion. But I digress........
Anyway, we moved to New York City when I was two, after a short jaunt to Hawaii of which I have little to no recollection. The way my mother tells it, they purchased this fixer upper house and after about a month winter hit. She woke up one morning and went downstairs and looked at a thermometer. She called for my father and told him it was 30 degrees. It being winter in Massachusetts my dad didn't think it was a big deal.
"You don't understand," she said. "It's 30 degrees inside the house." Big old drafty thing that it was. So we flew to Hawaii and spent a few months there. My mom lived there in her serious hippie days and still knew people there. After we came back, it's a little fuzzy to me on when exactly we moved to New York but it couldn't have been very long afterwards.
We lived in New York on the lower east side for four years. I think we spent summers still on the Vineyard because we still had that house and went back all the time. The people there were still very much a part of our lives. While we were living in New York my parents split up. My mom moved me to Boston and my dad stayed in New York. This was short lived. I was waking up in the middle of the night with stomach pains all the time. I would wake my mother and tell her I was in pain and she would drive me to the hospital but I always fell asleep before we got there. My mother did take me to the doctor (during the day) and he finally told her he thought I was depressed. That I missed my father and my friends and New York City. I cried a lot. I remember the time I started crying and my mother finally asked me if I wanted to go back to New York and live with my dad. I told her I did.
So she sent me back and I lived alone with my dad for almost all of kindergarten. We had a blast. We both have very fond memories of that time. But I did miss my mom, so I was very happy when she came back. They decided to try and make it work and we stayed in New York for one more year. Then we moved to Arizona. This was also short lived. My father hated it so much that after two months he told my mom that she could stay or she could come but he was leaving. So we moved back to Martha's Vineyard where we stayed for three more years. I was in second grade and finally got to go to school with all the kids I had grown up knowing, but I was still heartbroken over leaving New York and my best friend there.
My parents finally split up when I was seven or eight. I can't remember if I was in third grade yet or not. It was very, very messy and horrible. They fought and hated each other a lot. Eventually my dad moved back to New York and my mom and I moved to Boston (well, okay, Cambridge). They sold the house on the Vineyard.
I was once again devastated over this move, perhaps even more so because I was older and very attached to my friends. No one had ever heard of Martha's Vineyard and I was teased a lot for being a skinny white girl with absolutely no urban coolness. It was an extremely difficult transition. I kept in close contact with my friends on MV and we continued to attend each other's birthday parties and talk on the phone and write letters. I visited my dad a lot in New York City. And eventually I did grow to love living in Cambridge.
The problem was, my mom and I had major issues. Like, major ones. We were so close it was painful, but I was going through adolescent rage and I hated her at the same time that I loved her. I was angry for never having any stability and for just being my mom. I feel very guilty to this day about how awful I was to her, but it was what it was. In eighth grade I got myself some cool friends and some self confidence and decided I was too cool for school. I failed math and practically failed a lot of other subjects. My mom and I fought tooth and nail. She and my dad sent me to a private school for the arts for my freshman year of high school but I did no better even though I made some great friends. She constantly threatened to send me to go live with my dad and stepmother.
The summer in after my freshman year, my stepmother's ex husband (who still lived on MV) was on the brink of bankruptcy. He called her up and asked her if she wanted to buy the house. She offered him a ridiculously low amount of money and he took it. She and my dad came up with a plan. They were done living in New York City and wanted to move to western Massachusetts. They decided to leave New York and go back to the Vineyard for the summer to fix up the house. They would sell the house and use the money to move to Northampton and buy a house there.
Cue my annual summer visit. I always visited them for two or three weeks in the summer, and this one was no different. My mom and I had had an epic fight the week before I came for the visit, and my dad sat me down and told me that I had to shape up or she was going to send me to live with them. But it was too late. She had made her decision, and when I went home she informed me that I needed to pack my stuff. I going back to the Vineyard, something that five years ago would have been a dream come true for me but was now unthinkable.
My dad made the executive decision that due to the fact that I had had enough upheaval and instability in my life we would stay on the Vineyard instead of moving to Northampton. I was miserable and so was my stepmother. But it ended up being the best thing that could have ever happened for any of us. We had a great time together in the three years we lived together. I had grown to be extremely adaptable and figured it out eventually. My old friends we now just that; my old friends. For the most part I had to make completely new ones. But it was okay. I had a great high school experience.
My mom moved to California for love and work about six months after sending me to my dad's. At first I was angry but I eventually forgave her. I knew she needed to do it and that it broke her heart to not be with me. She still lives there and married my now stepfather.
I unfortunately continued the pattern of moving around. All I have ever craved is stability but I literally had no way to understand how to cultivate it. I went to three different colleges and moved around between four different states until finally settling here in New Jersey. So where exactly did I grow up?
As a kid, Martha's Vineyard, Cambridge and New York City. As an adult, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York and New Jersey. So I grew up a lot of places.
Not that there's anything wrong with that! I am very much a hippie in a lot of ways myself. But my folks had a hard time getting their shit together when I was a kid. I was born on Martha's Vineyard, a now famous island of the coast of Cape Cod in Massachusetts. No, we were not rich or famous. When I was growing up the island was mostly made up of working class hippies; restauraneurs, fisherman, carpenters, small business owners. Sure, we had rich and famous tourists in the summer, but it was dead in the winter. It was after Bill Clinton came in the 90's that things really started to change in my opinion. But I digress........
Anyway, we moved to New York City when I was two, after a short jaunt to Hawaii of which I have little to no recollection. The way my mother tells it, they purchased this fixer upper house and after about a month winter hit. She woke up one morning and went downstairs and looked at a thermometer. She called for my father and told him it was 30 degrees. It being winter in Massachusetts my dad didn't think it was a big deal.
"You don't understand," she said. "It's 30 degrees inside the house." Big old drafty thing that it was. So we flew to Hawaii and spent a few months there. My mom lived there in her serious hippie days and still knew people there. After we came back, it's a little fuzzy to me on when exactly we moved to New York but it couldn't have been very long afterwards.
We lived in New York on the lower east side for four years. I think we spent summers still on the Vineyard because we still had that house and went back all the time. The people there were still very much a part of our lives. While we were living in New York my parents split up. My mom moved me to Boston and my dad stayed in New York. This was short lived. I was waking up in the middle of the night with stomach pains all the time. I would wake my mother and tell her I was in pain and she would drive me to the hospital but I always fell asleep before we got there. My mother did take me to the doctor (during the day) and he finally told her he thought I was depressed. That I missed my father and my friends and New York City. I cried a lot. I remember the time I started crying and my mother finally asked me if I wanted to go back to New York and live with my dad. I told her I did.
So she sent me back and I lived alone with my dad for almost all of kindergarten. We had a blast. We both have very fond memories of that time. But I did miss my mom, so I was very happy when she came back. They decided to try and make it work and we stayed in New York for one more year. Then we moved to Arizona. This was also short lived. My father hated it so much that after two months he told my mom that she could stay or she could come but he was leaving. So we moved back to Martha's Vineyard where we stayed for three more years. I was in second grade and finally got to go to school with all the kids I had grown up knowing, but I was still heartbroken over leaving New York and my best friend there.
My parents finally split up when I was seven or eight. I can't remember if I was in third grade yet or not. It was very, very messy and horrible. They fought and hated each other a lot. Eventually my dad moved back to New York and my mom and I moved to Boston (well, okay, Cambridge). They sold the house on the Vineyard.
I was once again devastated over this move, perhaps even more so because I was older and very attached to my friends. No one had ever heard of Martha's Vineyard and I was teased a lot for being a skinny white girl with absolutely no urban coolness. It was an extremely difficult transition. I kept in close contact with my friends on MV and we continued to attend each other's birthday parties and talk on the phone and write letters. I visited my dad a lot in New York City. And eventually I did grow to love living in Cambridge.
The problem was, my mom and I had major issues. Like, major ones. We were so close it was painful, but I was going through adolescent rage and I hated her at the same time that I loved her. I was angry for never having any stability and for just being my mom. I feel very guilty to this day about how awful I was to her, but it was what it was. In eighth grade I got myself some cool friends and some self confidence and decided I was too cool for school. I failed math and practically failed a lot of other subjects. My mom and I fought tooth and nail. She and my dad sent me to a private school for the arts for my freshman year of high school but I did no better even though I made some great friends. She constantly threatened to send me to go live with my dad and stepmother.
The summer in after my freshman year, my stepmother's ex husband (who still lived on MV) was on the brink of bankruptcy. He called her up and asked her if she wanted to buy the house. She offered him a ridiculously low amount of money and he took it. She and my dad came up with a plan. They were done living in New York City and wanted to move to western Massachusetts. They decided to leave New York and go back to the Vineyard for the summer to fix up the house. They would sell the house and use the money to move to Northampton and buy a house there.
Cue my annual summer visit. I always visited them for two or three weeks in the summer, and this one was no different. My mom and I had had an epic fight the week before I came for the visit, and my dad sat me down and told me that I had to shape up or she was going to send me to live with them. But it was too late. She had made her decision, and when I went home she informed me that I needed to pack my stuff. I going back to the Vineyard, something that five years ago would have been a dream come true for me but was now unthinkable.
My dad made the executive decision that due to the fact that I had had enough upheaval and instability in my life we would stay on the Vineyard instead of moving to Northampton. I was miserable and so was my stepmother. But it ended up being the best thing that could have ever happened for any of us. We had a great time together in the three years we lived together. I had grown to be extremely adaptable and figured it out eventually. My old friends we now just that; my old friends. For the most part I had to make completely new ones. But it was okay. I had a great high school experience.
My mom moved to California for love and work about six months after sending me to my dad's. At first I was angry but I eventually forgave her. I knew she needed to do it and that it broke her heart to not be with me. She still lives there and married my now stepfather.
I unfortunately continued the pattern of moving around. All I have ever craved is stability but I literally had no way to understand how to cultivate it. I went to three different colleges and moved around between four different states until finally settling here in New Jersey. So where exactly did I grow up?
As a kid, Martha's Vineyard, Cambridge and New York City. As an adult, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York and New Jersey. So I grew up a lot of places.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Stanleypants
Today I said goodbye to my sweet orange cat Stanley (or Stanleypants or Mr. Pants as he was known for his big fluffy pants). He was one of three cats that I have had since I was 21. He was the last to join the crew and I got him when I was 22. He was 12 years old and lived in four different states with me, saw me through three relationships and my now marriage, lived in small spaces with just me and the other two cats, lived in a giant house with me and all the guys in my band and two other roommates, and finally, peacefully with my husband and me and the two other cats.
He jumped up on the bed in the middle of the night and was breathing funny. I took him to the vet first thing in the morning and they x-rayed him. The vet told me he had advanced stage heart disease and his lungs were filled with fluid. His heart was so big it was putting pressure on his windpipe. Even if I took him to the big fancy vet and got him an echo they would have given me a bad prognosis and he might have lived for another few months but would probably suffer. She said that even with meds heart disease is not managed well. I am still so shocked; he was absolutely fine yesterday. I know it was for the best but I just can't believe it. He was my best friend. I mean I love all three of my cats so much, but I would be lying if I didn't say I had a special connection with him. And now this morning I paid someone to take his life. I know it was the right thing to do but still........It was crazy; I literally watched the light go out of his eyes, I knew the moment he passed. I saw it. I loved that cat so much. He was the best and I already miss him so much.
He jumped up on the bed in the middle of the night and was breathing funny. I took him to the vet first thing in the morning and they x-rayed him. The vet told me he had advanced stage heart disease and his lungs were filled with fluid. His heart was so big it was putting pressure on his windpipe. Even if I took him to the big fancy vet and got him an echo they would have given me a bad prognosis and he might have lived for another few months but would probably suffer. She said that even with meds heart disease is not managed well. I am still so shocked; he was absolutely fine yesterday. I know it was for the best but I just can't believe it. He was my best friend. I mean I love all three of my cats so much, but I would be lying if I didn't say I had a special connection with him. And now this morning I paid someone to take his life. I know it was the right thing to do but still........It was crazy; I literally watched the light go out of his eyes, I knew the moment he passed. I saw it. I loved that cat so much. He was the best and I already miss him so much.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
The Drawing Board.......
I don't even know what the phrase "back to the drawing board" would even be for me right now. I had to stop the Prozac after three days because it was giving me the same effects as the other meds. Thumping, wracking heart beat, lightheadedness and weird eyesight things. So I got some new stuff called supposedly "created for patients just like me". Well today is day three and guess what? Same thing. I don't know what to do anymore. Obviously I'm going to stop taking it, but I don't know where that leaves me. What if I just can't tolerate meds anymore? I'm just going to have to go back to the natural/herbal drawing board. I just want to feel like my old self again, and I'm afraid I won't ever be able to because I respond so badly to meds.
On another note, my gastroenterologist is being really strange. He usually gets back to me right away when I email him, but I emailed him on Sunday and again on Tuesday and then I called on Wednesday. I still haven't heard back from him. This is just very unusual and odd and I'm starting to worry. What do you do when you are seeing one of the best doctors in all of New York City and they can't help you? Where would you even go? I am sure if he can't help me he will give me a referral. At least that's what I hope.
I am losing hope a little more every day that we will be able to have a family. I need this taken care of so we can start seeing the RE. I don't even know what to do about anything anymore; it is so discouraging. I mean, maybe with H's bipolar disorder and my depression/anxiety disorder it is best that we don't raise kids. Maybe we are just not strong enough. Maybe this is the universe telling us that we need to take care of each other and ourselves and that all we can really handle is cats. I don't know.
I am freaking out about starting my new teaching job. I have been shadowing the teacher I am replacing for the past two weeks and it seems like it will be good but a lot of work. I am not afraid of doing a lot of work, but I feel so shitty that I am worried I won't do a good job. I feel like I am caught between a rock and a hard place. H has realized that as much as he would like (and I would like) for him to be able to quit his misery-making job after my benefits kick in in April that it would be very ill advised. The reality is that we both have health conditions that require constant attention and we can't be without health insurance. If I don't get a permanent postition for September then I will lost my insurance as of August 31st, and if he doesn't have a job with benefits then we are fucked. I am glad he has come to this conclusion because I feel terrible since I was the one to suggest he quit in April. I would love to see him leave this job but we are unfortunately once again stuck between that rock and hard place.
Things are tough. They really are. Last night I just cried and cried while listening to this song after dinner. H hugged me and said this should be our mantra right now. I am trying. Truly I am.
On another note, my gastroenterologist is being really strange. He usually gets back to me right away when I email him, but I emailed him on Sunday and again on Tuesday and then I called on Wednesday. I still haven't heard back from him. This is just very unusual and odd and I'm starting to worry. What do you do when you are seeing one of the best doctors in all of New York City and they can't help you? Where would you even go? I am sure if he can't help me he will give me a referral. At least that's what I hope.
I am losing hope a little more every day that we will be able to have a family. I need this taken care of so we can start seeing the RE. I don't even know what to do about anything anymore; it is so discouraging. I mean, maybe with H's bipolar disorder and my depression/anxiety disorder it is best that we don't raise kids. Maybe we are just not strong enough. Maybe this is the universe telling us that we need to take care of each other and ourselves and that all we can really handle is cats. I don't know.
I am freaking out about starting my new teaching job. I have been shadowing the teacher I am replacing for the past two weeks and it seems like it will be good but a lot of work. I am not afraid of doing a lot of work, but I feel so shitty that I am worried I won't do a good job. I feel like I am caught between a rock and a hard place. H has realized that as much as he would like (and I would like) for him to be able to quit his misery-making job after my benefits kick in in April that it would be very ill advised. The reality is that we both have health conditions that require constant attention and we can't be without health insurance. If I don't get a permanent postition for September then I will lost my insurance as of August 31st, and if he doesn't have a job with benefits then we are fucked. I am glad he has come to this conclusion because I feel terrible since I was the one to suggest he quit in April. I would love to see him leave this job but we are unfortunately once again stuck between that rock and hard place.
Things are tough. They really are. Last night I just cried and cried while listening to this song after dinner. H hugged me and said this should be our mantra right now. I am trying. Truly I am.
I love this video because it is so real. This is H and me right now.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Back on meds
Well, I did it. I went to my psychiatrist's office and got Prozac. We'll see how it works out. I'm mostly afraid it will give me terrible side effects. Last year I tried going back on for a bit and Zoloft and even Lexapro which I took for eleven years gave me horrible racing heart beat. It was awful. I couldn't sleep and I felt like shit; it was wracking my whole body. I just want this to work because I know that if and when the time comes and I need to make the choice I can stay on Prozac through pregnancy. So we'll see what happens. I am very hopeful but of course I still feel like shit (obviously). I just don't want this to be my life anymore on any level.
Saturday, February 15, 2014
The Last Straw
I am going back on meds I think. I have been unmedicated for a year and a half with a short time in the middle where I went back on them. I literally can't do life anymore. I started a new job this week which is great but I remember how hard it is to work when I feel like such shit. My stomach hurts so bad that when I walk around I just hug my arms around it. It is huge all the time. I still don't know what's wrong. My gastroenterologist put me on antibiotics to try and change the flora in my gut. I got a nice yeast infection from those for Valentine's day. I also had a complete and total meltdown last night.
I told my husband that I felt that I must deserve all this shit. That I've tried so hard in my life to do the right things and be a good person and it's just gotten me nowhere. I got sick with my pelvic pain last year and lost my job and my best friend. As soon as that was over this began. I just can't take it anymore. I told him I didn't deserve him. I was mean to him because he was complaining about his job; I told him I couldn't have that conversation anymore. He is miserable because he hates his job. I am miserable because I am sick and can do nothing about it, because I am going to be 35 in three months and am still childless, because my husband is miserable and because I am straight up depressed.
I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. I have taken no joy in any of the things I like to do for months. I am a singer by nature; it's what I do, it's who I am. I am a music teacher. H and I met through music. I sing in an a cappella group and I used to love practicing and working on music; now it's a chore. Cooking and baking were big hobbies of mine, but food makes my stomach worse so even though I eat it always gives me anxiety and worry. So that's out. I don't want to do anything. I used to be so passionate about so many things in my life; now the only thing I have been passionate about is getting healthy so we could start a family................
But that's out for now too. I realize that in big huge bright lights now. We are avoiding until I get better and until we can figure out our shit. I told my husband last night that once my benefits kick in in April he should quit his job, even if he doesn't have anything else lined up. I just can't deal with him and his job misery anymore. He has no idea if he wants to work for himself or find another job. I really don't give a shit what he does as long as he is happy and making some money. I would be perfectly happy to be the main breadwinner. I feel terrible that I am so mean and short about this with him and I know it isn't really me to be this impatient and cranky and straight bitchy. I know that in reality it is because I don't feel good and I am getting to the last straw with it.
I am hoping that if I got back on meds it will help me cope a little better and just help me to get through. When (if) the time comes for me to think about pregnancy again I will cross that bridge when I come to it. The issue is that the last time I went on meds I had terrible trouble with racing heartbeat. Even when I took Lexapro, which I had taken for eleven years prior to being off of them. I hope I can find something I can handle this time around again. But whatever helps me is what I will do. I can't stand living this way anymore.
I told my husband that I felt that I must deserve all this shit. That I've tried so hard in my life to do the right things and be a good person and it's just gotten me nowhere. I got sick with my pelvic pain last year and lost my job and my best friend. As soon as that was over this began. I just can't take it anymore. I told him I didn't deserve him. I was mean to him because he was complaining about his job; I told him I couldn't have that conversation anymore. He is miserable because he hates his job. I am miserable because I am sick and can do nothing about it, because I am going to be 35 in three months and am still childless, because my husband is miserable and because I am straight up depressed.
I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. I have taken no joy in any of the things I like to do for months. I am a singer by nature; it's what I do, it's who I am. I am a music teacher. H and I met through music. I sing in an a cappella group and I used to love practicing and working on music; now it's a chore. Cooking and baking were big hobbies of mine, but food makes my stomach worse so even though I eat it always gives me anxiety and worry. So that's out. I don't want to do anything. I used to be so passionate about so many things in my life; now the only thing I have been passionate about is getting healthy so we could start a family................
But that's out for now too. I realize that in big huge bright lights now. We are avoiding until I get better and until we can figure out our shit. I told my husband last night that once my benefits kick in in April he should quit his job, even if he doesn't have anything else lined up. I just can't deal with him and his job misery anymore. He has no idea if he wants to work for himself or find another job. I really don't give a shit what he does as long as he is happy and making some money. I would be perfectly happy to be the main breadwinner. I feel terrible that I am so mean and short about this with him and I know it isn't really me to be this impatient and cranky and straight bitchy. I know that in reality it is because I don't feel good and I am getting to the last straw with it.
I am hoping that if I got back on meds it will help me cope a little better and just help me to get through. When (if) the time comes for me to think about pregnancy again I will cross that bridge when I come to it. The issue is that the last time I went on meds I had terrible trouble with racing heartbeat. Even when I took Lexapro, which I had taken for eleven years prior to being off of them. I hope I can find something I can handle this time around again. But whatever helps me is what I will do. I can't stand living this way anymore.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Fuck everything
I hate everything today. And yesterday too. I am so goddamn sick of being sick I could just scream. After all the shit I went through last year, less than three months after my surgery I came down with this weird stomach thing. It's like bloating and pain and sometimes other symptoms that come and go, but the sensation and the discomfort and pain do not go away or get better ever and there is nothing I can do that helps. I have had every test there is and nothing ever comes up. I had my pelvic pain specialist recommend the best gastroenterologist she knew of because fuck going through all these small time doctors anymore. I went to one and basically used him for all the tests so that by the time my appointment with Dr. K, my doctor in the city, rolled around I had all the test results to bring him. My other doctor said to me very casually that "sometimes these are symptoms of ovarian cancer." He had in his possession copies of all three transvaginal ultrasounds as well as a pelvic abdominal ultrasound that all showed normal ovaries. And who says that to a young woman like that?!?! I was so pissed. It was that moment that I knew I was going to go nowhere with him. I love Dr. K and will continue on with him until he says he can't help me. But so far I have gotten nowhere. I have been on the FODMAPS diet, I went gluten free for two months, I have taken a food allergy blood test--NOTHING has helped.
And the pregnancy announcements. Oh, the pregnancy announcements. They are coming in like a train that just won't stop. TWINS. FOR TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE IN MY LIFE. I just can't anymore; I seriously can't. We had all our IF testing done and it all came up fine, but we can't pursue it anymore at this time because I need to wait at this point to resolve my stomach problems. So we are currently TTA and I HATE it. I am going to be 35 in May. We started TTC in August of 2012 when I was 33. Then pelvic pain in October 2012 and it has just been a constant steady stream of fuckery since then.
I would give anything to just feel normal again. To enjoy my life. To have the chance to be happy. To eat without freaking out. I don't understand how I could go from one illness to another so goddamn quickly when they couldn't be any less related. My doctor thought that perhaps the bloating was due to muscle dysfunction from my hip surgery, but we had to take that off the table with the onset of new symptoms. I hate being sick and not knowing what is wrong. That is the worst part. The not knowing. And today I just feel like punching walls. This is not living; this is existing. It is torture. I get so upset now when I look at our wedding photos and how happy we were and how much promise there was in our future. Little did we know what kind of shitty stuff would be around the corner.
I am starting a new job on Monday. I was so happy when I got offered the job, but I honestly am not looking forward to it at all because I just feel like such shit. I know it will be good for me, and I know it is better to be out in the workforce and not sitting at home depressed and focusing on how bad I feel. But I am always terrified that what happened to me with my last job will happen to me again (I was so sick that I could no longer work and they didn't renew my contract). I don't have the heart to face that again. I just want this to stop, and it keeps going on and on.........I feel so helpless and out of control and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it other than what I am doing.
I must have been a terrible person in a past life. I must have horrible karma. But oh well; I try to remind myself that it could be worse. That I don't have something deadly. But I don't know what I have and it's ruining my life and my husband's. What kind of a life is that?
And the pregnancy announcements. Oh, the pregnancy announcements. They are coming in like a train that just won't stop. TWINS. FOR TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE IN MY LIFE. I just can't anymore; I seriously can't. We had all our IF testing done and it all came up fine, but we can't pursue it anymore at this time because I need to wait at this point to resolve my stomach problems. So we are currently TTA and I HATE it. I am going to be 35 in May. We started TTC in August of 2012 when I was 33. Then pelvic pain in October 2012 and it has just been a constant steady stream of fuckery since then.
I would give anything to just feel normal again. To enjoy my life. To have the chance to be happy. To eat without freaking out. I don't understand how I could go from one illness to another so goddamn quickly when they couldn't be any less related. My doctor thought that perhaps the bloating was due to muscle dysfunction from my hip surgery, but we had to take that off the table with the onset of new symptoms. I hate being sick and not knowing what is wrong. That is the worst part. The not knowing. And today I just feel like punching walls. This is not living; this is existing. It is torture. I get so upset now when I look at our wedding photos and how happy we were and how much promise there was in our future. Little did we know what kind of shitty stuff would be around the corner.
I am starting a new job on Monday. I was so happy when I got offered the job, but I honestly am not looking forward to it at all because I just feel like such shit. I know it will be good for me, and I know it is better to be out in the workforce and not sitting at home depressed and focusing on how bad I feel. But I am always terrified that what happened to me with my last job will happen to me again (I was so sick that I could no longer work and they didn't renew my contract). I don't have the heart to face that again. I just want this to stop, and it keeps going on and on.........I feel so helpless and out of control and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it other than what I am doing.
I must have been a terrible person in a past life. I must have horrible karma. But oh well; I try to remind myself that it could be worse. That I don't have something deadly. But I don't know what I have and it's ruining my life and my husband's. What kind of a life is that?
No Hashimoto's!
I had my six month appointment with my endocrinologist in January. I had seen him in July on recommendation from my OB/pelvic pain specialist in April. She had run a million tests on me (pre pelvic pain diagnosis) and found that my thyroglobulin was elevated. She suggested it might be early stages of Hashimoto's and just told me to go see this doctor. Like an asshole I forgot to ask him anything about Hashimoto's when I saw him. I called two weeks after my appointment and they told me the doctor would call me (yeah right). I had so much else going on that it just got pushed down to the bottom of my list of things I could worry about. After all, although my thyroid was slightly englarged, all my tests had come back normal and the ultrasound showed nothing abnormal. He told me to come see him again for a checkup in January. In the meantime I told my acupuncturist about this and he ran with it. He told me if I had those antibodies then I had Hashi's, end of story (a lot of his patients have it). So I started reading up about it and freaking out a little, going on a gluten free diet etc. For SIX MONTHS I thought I had it. I was terrified that my stomach problems were being cause by this disease (of which was apparently asymptomatic otherwise) and that I was going to have to deal with this forever. Well when I saw my endocrinologist I asked him about it and he told me I didn't have it. I was really shocked and insisted that he pull out the bloodwork I had brought him when I saw him in July. He told me that 95%--not 100%--but 95% of patients with Hashi's have elevated peroxidase too, which showed normal on the bloodwork I brought him from April as well as the bloodwork he did in July (and now the ones he ran in January as well). I was so happy I could have danced out of there. My acupuncturist told me that my endocrinologist is not educated and is old school and that's why he says I don't have Hashi's.
I am going with what my endocrinologist said. He's got an office at NYU Langone and graduated NYU in the 50's. I think he has some experience. Plus he's an ENDOCRINOLOGIST!!!!
I am going with what my endocrinologist said. He's got an office at NYU Langone and graduated NYU in the 50's. I think he has some experience. Plus he's an ENDOCRINOLOGIST!!!!
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Pelvic Pain Part 3.........the conclusion
Enter GhostMonkey. Yes, the famed GM. Of all people, she was the one to point me in the right direction. I posted about my pain on The Bump, trying to see if anyone else had experienced anything similar. It turned out that two of the most active, well-loved, snarky and long-standing members of the forum had suffered from her own pelvic pain. I had never even heard the phrase "pelvic pain" before and was kind of happy to find out that what was happening to me was actually a thing. GM gave me a link to the Pelvic Pain Society, which provided information on how to find providers in your area. This is where I finally found the people who would put me on the right path. (HERE is the link in case you want to check it out for yourself or someone you love.)
I went to see a pelvic floor physical therapist first. She was amazing. I loved her website because there was all sorts of information on what to do if your doctor wasn't listening to you or if you couldn't find anyone who would take you seriously or who understood your condition. She was heaven sent. She gave me a very thorough examination and was very kind and listened to everything I said. She said it was not pelvic floor dyfunction, which of course as a physical therapist was mostly what she dealt with. And then she told me that the best place I could go for this kind of thing was SoHo OBGYN in the City. I kicked myself for not making the appointment with them when my mom first told me about it. Since their office was booking three months out, she told me in the meantime to go and see another OB that she worked with who would be sympathetic and might be able to help at least a until then. I was so happy to finally have someone who got it!!!!
I made my appointment at SoHo OBGYN for March and went to see Dr. A, the one recommended by the PT. Dr. A was wonderful. She had a holistic approach to her practice and was very understanding. She recommended an acupuncturist to me (who was ironically the same guy a friend of mine had been hounding me to go see because he had helped her so much) and told me I should go and see him for my pain. I knew it was a sign that I was meant to go and see him. (He ended up becoming a staple in my life. But we'll hear more about him.) She told me she would not give up on me and drew my blood to test me for a myriad of things. In the meantime I made the appointment with the acupuncturist and waited to hear back from her.................except I didn't hear back. Day after day went by and I heard nothing. I kept calling the office and they kept telling me she would call me and she didn't. And during that time was when everything came falling down.
I got my period the last week of January. I was pushing through my days at this point, after four months of debilitating pain and the mindfuck of having no idea what was wrong. I knew my work was suffering, but I was honestly doing the best I could. This month though, the shit hit the fan. During my last period of the day, I was standing in front of a second grade class with my pudendal nerve screaming at me and my whole pelvic floor feeling like it was going to fall out. I had to pull up a chair and sit down and at that moment I realized I couldn't do it anymore. I had to take time off. My principal, although informed about what was happening, was starting to give me shit about missing choir rehearsals for doctor's appointments. I couldn't continue to try and schedule around work all the time. I knew I had to take some time off.
I took another sick day the next day and started to put a plan in place. Dr. A finally called me back and aplogized for not getting back to me sooner and told me all my tests came back normal (big fucking surprise). I burst into tears and asked her if she would write me medical documentation to get the time off of work. Thankfully she agreed. I decided to take off two months and planned to return to work after spring break.
The second day of my medical leave I woke up with the flu and I was in bed for seven days. Thank goodness I had taken leave. Things progressed extremely quickly after that because I had so much time to see the doctors I needed to see. On recommendation of Dr. A and also the PT made an appointment with a urogynocologist who specialized in pelvic pain and who worked with both of them. He was actually extremely helpful if for nothing else because while he had a wonderful bedside manner he was not very gentle during the examination. It was because of this that we were able to find that the pain was mostly radiating from the left side. He told me that he was going to discuss his findings with the PT. The PT asked me to come back in to see her again for another more thorough reevaluation. That was when she discovered that I had pain in my left hip joint. Did I know I had that? Yes I did. But I never, ever thought anything of it. I always figured I needed to get more exercise or something. But she told the urogynecologist and they agreed that I should get MRIs done of my left hip, pelvis and lumbar spine.
BOOM.
FINALLY, something came back with "something". The urogynecologist called me and told me that my hip had a labral tear and that I should consider seeing a hip specialist. I had no idea why, but I didn't care--they had at least found SOMETHING. Well wouldn't you know it, by then my appointment at SoHo OBGYN was coming right up. Enter Dr. Harris. When I got to my appointment she had all the information there at her fingertips and immediately said she thought it was my hip. She explained that she had had ballerinas with this injury (everyone I tell that to has a laugh considering I am clumsy as hell and a bull in a china shop--anything but graceful or athletic) whose complaints were similar to mine. She and her partner in practice had even done a study with a hip specialist at the Hospital for Special Surgery regarding pelvic pain and the hip. Unbelievable. I was getting somewhere!
Obviously I made an appointment with the hip doctor as soon as I could. The day I saw him was like a beautiful dream. He was so kind and soft spoken. He told me all about how he had come to do the study with Dr. Harris and that he had helped about 100 people through it. He looked at my MRI and proceeded to explain to me what was happening. He said I had bone impingement--the head of my femur was too big for the socket, causing it to slip out and tear the labrum (tissue that holds the femur to the hip). The head of the femur, hanging out of the socket, was pushing forward and rubbing up against the ilio psoas tendon causing inflammation to the tendon. This tendon is connected to all the nerves in the pelvic floor, which are now also inflamed and sending pain signals up and down my vaginal canal.
FUCKING BOOM. AGAIN.
I literally almost hugged him. I had to force myself not to cry. It was amazing. He told me that protocol was that I would have to get a cortizone shot in the tendon first before surgery, the idea being that if I felt better then we would know that was the problem then. After discussion we agreed that I should not return to work. I was terrified that if I went back to work (on my feet all day--no classroom, pushing a cart from room to room, traveling between three schools every day) that the pain would return with the intensity it had when I was still working (it had calmed down considerably since I had taken off and was sitting or laying down for most of the day at home). Plus then I would just have to leave again for surgery. This was April 3rd and I was scheduled to return to work April 8th.
I got a call from my principal on April 10th, notifying me that my contract was not being renewed for the following year as I was non-tenured. They made up some crap about my attendance (for medical reasons assholes!!!) but we all know it was my extended medical leave (illegal to let me go for). That was a huge blow and felt like I was being kicked while I was down, although in retrospect I didn't want to stay at that job anyway. But to have that on my resume just makes my life that much harder. Anyway, this is another whole story.
I got the injection. And wouldn't you know it? I didn't respond to it at all! The hip surgeon told me that that happened about 7% of the time (omfg.....) but that he was confident enough in my diagnosis that he wanted to go through with the surgery anyway. THANK GOODNESS!!
Anyway, to wrap things up I did get surgery on May 31st. Dr. Harris at SoHo OBGYN saw me through all of it. She said I could expect to have pain flares for about a year. I had a huge one with a yeast infection in July that had me in terror and hysterics. My fucked up flora is what started all this shit--when the tissue gets inflamed from the infection all the nerves get inflamed too. The yeast infection came from using Pre-Seed, so no more. I ended up having to get a cortizone injection into my pudendal nerve which calmed things down. But I never had to do that again. I had pain flares until October--not as bad as the one in July--but bad enough that they made sex a "thing" still. But then it stopped. It just went away and never came back. I don't freak out about it as much anymore because I feel like I have Dr. Harris and I know that if I really ever need to I can get that injection, but mostly I know now that if flares do happen I can wait it out and it will dissipate. Every once in a while I can feel it twinge a little, but it doesn't keep me from sex or tampons anymore.
I am grateful for all the knowledge that this nightmare experience has brought me. I now know how to navigate the medical system and know that I must be my own advocate. I am now going through another dimension of hell with gastroenterologic issues. But that's for another post.......
I went to see a pelvic floor physical therapist first. She was amazing. I loved her website because there was all sorts of information on what to do if your doctor wasn't listening to you or if you couldn't find anyone who would take you seriously or who understood your condition. She was heaven sent. She gave me a very thorough examination and was very kind and listened to everything I said. She said it was not pelvic floor dyfunction, which of course as a physical therapist was mostly what she dealt with. And then she told me that the best place I could go for this kind of thing was SoHo OBGYN in the City. I kicked myself for not making the appointment with them when my mom first told me about it. Since their office was booking three months out, she told me in the meantime to go and see another OB that she worked with who would be sympathetic and might be able to help at least a until then. I was so happy to finally have someone who got it!!!!
I made my appointment at SoHo OBGYN for March and went to see Dr. A, the one recommended by the PT. Dr. A was wonderful. She had a holistic approach to her practice and was very understanding. She recommended an acupuncturist to me (who was ironically the same guy a friend of mine had been hounding me to go see because he had helped her so much) and told me I should go and see him for my pain. I knew it was a sign that I was meant to go and see him. (He ended up becoming a staple in my life. But we'll hear more about him.) She told me she would not give up on me and drew my blood to test me for a myriad of things. In the meantime I made the appointment with the acupuncturist and waited to hear back from her.................except I didn't hear back. Day after day went by and I heard nothing. I kept calling the office and they kept telling me she would call me and she didn't. And during that time was when everything came falling down.
I got my period the last week of January. I was pushing through my days at this point, after four months of debilitating pain and the mindfuck of having no idea what was wrong. I knew my work was suffering, but I was honestly doing the best I could. This month though, the shit hit the fan. During my last period of the day, I was standing in front of a second grade class with my pudendal nerve screaming at me and my whole pelvic floor feeling like it was going to fall out. I had to pull up a chair and sit down and at that moment I realized I couldn't do it anymore. I had to take time off. My principal, although informed about what was happening, was starting to give me shit about missing choir rehearsals for doctor's appointments. I couldn't continue to try and schedule around work all the time. I knew I had to take some time off.
I took another sick day the next day and started to put a plan in place. Dr. A finally called me back and aplogized for not getting back to me sooner and told me all my tests came back normal (big fucking surprise). I burst into tears and asked her if she would write me medical documentation to get the time off of work. Thankfully she agreed. I decided to take off two months and planned to return to work after spring break.
The second day of my medical leave I woke up with the flu and I was in bed for seven days. Thank goodness I had taken leave. Things progressed extremely quickly after that because I had so much time to see the doctors I needed to see. On recommendation of Dr. A and also the PT made an appointment with a urogynocologist who specialized in pelvic pain and who worked with both of them. He was actually extremely helpful if for nothing else because while he had a wonderful bedside manner he was not very gentle during the examination. It was because of this that we were able to find that the pain was mostly radiating from the left side. He told me that he was going to discuss his findings with the PT. The PT asked me to come back in to see her again for another more thorough reevaluation. That was when she discovered that I had pain in my left hip joint. Did I know I had that? Yes I did. But I never, ever thought anything of it. I always figured I needed to get more exercise or something. But she told the urogynecologist and they agreed that I should get MRIs done of my left hip, pelvis and lumbar spine.
BOOM.
FINALLY, something came back with "something". The urogynecologist called me and told me that my hip had a labral tear and that I should consider seeing a hip specialist. I had no idea why, but I didn't care--they had at least found SOMETHING. Well wouldn't you know it, by then my appointment at SoHo OBGYN was coming right up. Enter Dr. Harris. When I got to my appointment she had all the information there at her fingertips and immediately said she thought it was my hip. She explained that she had had ballerinas with this injury (everyone I tell that to has a laugh considering I am clumsy as hell and a bull in a china shop--anything but graceful or athletic) whose complaints were similar to mine. She and her partner in practice had even done a study with a hip specialist at the Hospital for Special Surgery regarding pelvic pain and the hip. Unbelievable. I was getting somewhere!
Obviously I made an appointment with the hip doctor as soon as I could. The day I saw him was like a beautiful dream. He was so kind and soft spoken. He told me all about how he had come to do the study with Dr. Harris and that he had helped about 100 people through it. He looked at my MRI and proceeded to explain to me what was happening. He said I had bone impingement--the head of my femur was too big for the socket, causing it to slip out and tear the labrum (tissue that holds the femur to the hip). The head of the femur, hanging out of the socket, was pushing forward and rubbing up against the ilio psoas tendon causing inflammation to the tendon. This tendon is connected to all the nerves in the pelvic floor, which are now also inflamed and sending pain signals up and down my vaginal canal.
FUCKING BOOM. AGAIN.
I literally almost hugged him. I had to force myself not to cry. It was amazing. He told me that protocol was that I would have to get a cortizone shot in the tendon first before surgery, the idea being that if I felt better then we would know that was the problem then. After discussion we agreed that I should not return to work. I was terrified that if I went back to work (on my feet all day--no classroom, pushing a cart from room to room, traveling between three schools every day) that the pain would return with the intensity it had when I was still working (it had calmed down considerably since I had taken off and was sitting or laying down for most of the day at home). Plus then I would just have to leave again for surgery. This was April 3rd and I was scheduled to return to work April 8th.
I got a call from my principal on April 10th, notifying me that my contract was not being renewed for the following year as I was non-tenured. They made up some crap about my attendance (for medical reasons assholes!!!) but we all know it was my extended medical leave (illegal to let me go for). That was a huge blow and felt like I was being kicked while I was down, although in retrospect I didn't want to stay at that job anyway. But to have that on my resume just makes my life that much harder. Anyway, this is another whole story.
I got the injection. And wouldn't you know it? I didn't respond to it at all! The hip surgeon told me that that happened about 7% of the time (omfg.....) but that he was confident enough in my diagnosis that he wanted to go through with the surgery anyway. THANK GOODNESS!!
Anyway, to wrap things up I did get surgery on May 31st. Dr. Harris at SoHo OBGYN saw me through all of it. She said I could expect to have pain flares for about a year. I had a huge one with a yeast infection in July that had me in terror and hysterics. My fucked up flora is what started all this shit--when the tissue gets inflamed from the infection all the nerves get inflamed too. The yeast infection came from using Pre-Seed, so no more. I ended up having to get a cortizone injection into my pudendal nerve which calmed things down. But I never had to do that again. I had pain flares until October--not as bad as the one in July--but bad enough that they made sex a "thing" still. But then it stopped. It just went away and never came back. I don't freak out about it as much anymore because I feel like I have Dr. Harris and I know that if I really ever need to I can get that injection, but mostly I know now that if flares do happen I can wait it out and it will dissipate. Every once in a while I can feel it twinge a little, but it doesn't keep me from sex or tampons anymore.
I am grateful for all the knowledge that this nightmare experience has brought me. I now know how to navigate the medical system and know that I must be my own advocate. I am now going through another dimension of hell with gastroenterologic issues. But that's for another post.......
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