sick baby now has bronchitis
annual fundraiser a big 'ol mess
friends not available right when I need them
birth relatives violating emotional boundaries
in-laws turning into unrecognizable schadenfreude experts
husband and I having huge fight about unattractive schadenfreuders
roof has an ugly tarp and ceiling still falling in
architect unable to remember previous instructions, keeps sending weird drawings
hormones now undetectable (LH & FSH) so I may have another disease to battle
unable to schedule diagnostic sonohysterogram due to 12 weeks worth of unrelenting bloodloss
kaz's school made several commitments to us on friday after I raised hell - and still nothing
behind on billpaying, even though I have the money, because the paperwork is so screwed up
no groceries in house, no supplies cause I barely have time to move, never mind shop
skin cancer spot on nose, or else I am growing an ugly spot
new car is still not working right
bloglines messed up, can't pick up feeds
feedburner messed up, can't figure out feeds
blogger messed up, keeps barring comments
ISP messed up, unable to get me on the net
gmail/blackberry both messed up, unable to send/receive messages
and last but not least
husband's long-standing, inactive auto-immune disease is active again - the one I can't discuss here, that scares the fuck outa me
enough people just enough
Showing posts with label POF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label POF. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
relieving the suspense
We paid some awful amount of money to temporarily fix the roof, and cleaned up all the rotting drywall and water. We hope it will last 6 months, but really it will only last until the next thaw, when another leak comes up in another spot. Husband is slowly accepting he will have to actually reno the house, and use the plans the architect is now rushing to do. Slowly. Some more ceiling needs to fall on his head perhaps? Dunno...
Dr.J. was not helpful. And she usually is. So disappointed. She thinks that I should LOWER my estrogen even though every single time I do that, I bleed like mad. She wants me to take only progesterone even though that makes me shake and get the jitters. Then she wants me to go off of everything for a week (Hello, divorce!) and then go on the pill, which is never enough estrogen for me. She does not seem to understand that in a woman with severe ovarian failure like myself, I do not produce any hormones on my own. So of course my moods are affected. And mood altering drugs don't help that. ADs, whatever, cannot make up for organ failure!
They'd never say this to a man who had kidney failure and was experiencing side effects of the disease.
Never.
Oh, and at first we could not understand the ultrasound report, because it said I had one fibroid and two normal looking ovaries, and some other weird stuff. Then we realized that someone had messed up my report and transposed the measurement numbers. Sigh....plus they did not note the position or placement of the fibroid, and so we can't do anything else. I have to go back for an ultrasound and a saline hysterogram. In case the fibroid is inner, or if I have a polyp, or scar tissue. Total fucking waste of time.....could have done this last fall if I had a requisition. And she did not give me a referral to an OB/Gyn because she wants to wait and figure this out. Thing is, unless it's urgent, I have to wait. And if I had a referral last fall....sigh...
Next, the entire family is sick and exhausted. We have colds and bad throats and Mr.Cotta is getting a man-cold, which as we all know is much much worse than any cold a woman could ever get.
And my son's school? The new high school which demanded all that testing and documentation and said they would move him up and give him more challenging work? Not quite.....they don't do that for anyone. Ever. Except that's a lie, and they did do it for a kid in his class in another subject and they do it for lots of people. Except that it's too late now. Except that "ooops", turns out we've been asking them to do this since last June and it's not our fault their heads are stuck up their asses and they were too disorganized to figure it out. I honestly don't get it. My poor husband feels shocked because he can't believe they are screwing this up.
If Einstein went to this school, they'd tell him to go to the back of the bus. They are really that awful.
January sucked. And if Julius wasn't here and learning how to crawl all on his own and being amazing, February would suck too. Poor Kaz, poor Mac, poor me and the house and Mr.C. If only grown up life were as simple as learning how to crawl...
Dr.J. was not helpful. And she usually is. So disappointed. She thinks that I should LOWER my estrogen even though every single time I do that, I bleed like mad. She wants me to take only progesterone even though that makes me shake and get the jitters. Then she wants me to go off of everything for a week (Hello, divorce!) and then go on the pill, which is never enough estrogen for me. She does not seem to understand that in a woman with severe ovarian failure like myself, I do not produce any hormones on my own. So of course my moods are affected. And mood altering drugs don't help that. ADs, whatever, cannot make up for organ failure!
They'd never say this to a man who had kidney failure and was experiencing side effects of the disease.
Never.
Oh, and at first we could not understand the ultrasound report, because it said I had one fibroid and two normal looking ovaries, and some other weird stuff. Then we realized that someone had messed up my report and transposed the measurement numbers. Sigh....plus they did not note the position or placement of the fibroid, and so we can't do anything else. I have to go back for an ultrasound and a saline hysterogram. In case the fibroid is inner, or if I have a polyp, or scar tissue. Total fucking waste of time.....could have done this last fall if I had a requisition. And she did not give me a referral to an OB/Gyn because she wants to wait and figure this out. Thing is, unless it's urgent, I have to wait. And if I had a referral last fall....sigh...
Next, the entire family is sick and exhausted. We have colds and bad throats and Mr.Cotta is getting a man-cold, which as we all know is much much worse than any cold a woman could ever get.
And my son's school? The new high school which demanded all that testing and documentation and said they would move him up and give him more challenging work? Not quite.....they don't do that for anyone. Ever. Except that's a lie, and they did do it for a kid in his class in another subject and they do it for lots of people. Except that it's too late now. Except that "ooops", turns out we've been asking them to do this since last June and it's not our fault their heads are stuck up their asses and they were too disorganized to figure it out. I honestly don't get it. My poor husband feels shocked because he can't believe they are screwing this up.
If Einstein went to this school, they'd tell him to go to the back of the bus. They are really that awful.
January sucked. And if Julius wasn't here and learning how to crawl all on his own and being amazing, February would suck too. Poor Kaz, poor Mac, poor me and the house and Mr.C. If only grown up life were as simple as learning how to crawl...
Friday, January 23, 2009
irritation
I am so crabby and irritated right now, you could likely do a study on me as an example of "what happens when you don't have enough hormones."
There are so many good things in my life but when I feel like this, I cannot see it.
I really sincerely utterly can't stand anyone. Everything everyone does is wrong and stupid and annoying and driving me crazy.
So until my doc calls me back and helps me fix my HRT and deal with these fibroids, I'm just laying low.
I've had a bunch of your tabs open for awhile and I intended on commenting, but that may not be such a great friggin idea. I keep waiting to be in a better mood, but I'm NEVER in a better mood. It's taking all my strength just to write something decent when I do comment.
And the stupid Doc is not calling me back. And everything I find online is depressing. I desperately do not want to lose any body parts, like my uterus, and the best treatments seem to be still under research, and I do NOT want to use drugs to put me in menopause because that is worse than anything.
I'm going to be in a good mood for my kids if it effin kills me, but I don't have anything left over for anyone else. Sorry.
There are so many good things in my life but when I feel like this, I cannot see it.
I really sincerely utterly can't stand anyone. Everything everyone does is wrong and stupid and annoying and driving me crazy.
So until my doc calls me back and helps me fix my HRT and deal with these fibroids, I'm just laying low.
I've had a bunch of your tabs open for awhile and I intended on commenting, but that may not be such a great friggin idea. I keep waiting to be in a better mood, but I'm NEVER in a better mood. It's taking all my strength just to write something decent when I do comment.
And the stupid Doc is not calling me back. And everything I find online is depressing. I desperately do not want to lose any body parts, like my uterus, and the best treatments seem to be still under research, and I do NOT want to use drugs to put me in menopause because that is worse than anything.
I'm going to be in a good mood for my kids if it effin kills me, but I don't have anything left over for anyone else. Sorry.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Resolution update
So my diet/not really diet/healthful eating thing is going well. I've lost a few pounds, and my fancy new scale says that my bodyfat is going down and my water percentage is the same, so it isn't water I'm losing.
I was 138ish. That by the way means that with clothes and glasses on, I was 138.9 or 139, and with clothes off and contacts in like in the morning before I get dressed, I was 138. I'm trying to weigh myself in the morning, same time of day, and not dressed, because I have discovered that clothes, and watches and glasses and belts and shoes can really change your weight! So you know---you think, hey I lost weight, and then you weigh yourself at night with a bunch of clothes and bam, you think you gained....yeah, I know, you all knew this, but on behalf of the ignorant here, be generous.
I am 135 right now, a week later. I was 134, but I go up and down here and there, so it's not bad. My bodyfat is 32%, which is a hell of a lot lower than it was before. (I told you I had no muscles...if you check the web, that is baaad baby.)
So I've stuck with the no alcohol regime, (12,000 extra calories per month if you have a couple glasses a night, eeek!!) and I am eating smaller amounts of normal meals, but all the same things. I am not buying smarties and Reese's peanut butter cups which are my major weaknesses, and I am trying to eat some more veggies, but I already have enough diet restrictions as it is, since I am severely lactose intolerant, and have other health issues, so I can't do any of the fad diets out there, or detoxing, or protein diets.
I am stuck with moderation. Nuthin' fancy. I already eat pretty low fat as it is, since everything I touch is dairy free, but I have to make the kids meals with some dairy and higher levels of fat or they will not have the normal weight gain they need. We try to keep the transfats to a minimum cause they aren't good for anyone.
But in the end, I just eat a smaller portion of whatever I was eating before. Like, instead of 8 chocolate cookies, I only eat two. If I eat none, I just feel bitter and deprived, so I decided not to ban chocolate treats completely.
Okay, as for renovations, we have discovered more leaks in the roof above Kaz's bedroom. And a major crack in the bathtub/shower handle, and I think we have mold in the house again because I am continuously stuffy and it isn't possible to have allergies like this in winter, unless I have mold somewhere again. So my poor darling husband is slowly starting to accept that he has to renovate sooner as opposed to later. The only question is how much to spend and how far to go. Personally, I want to do it right, not luxuriously, but nicely, and live here until the kids grow up and then we can move into a condo. He wants to spend as little as possible (Cheep, cheep cheep says the birdie!) and live here until we can't stand it any longer and then beg on bended knee for someone to buy it off of us. And I'm like, umm, why would we beg? Why would we put in cheap, crappy materials and just have to redo it in a few years when everything breaks? And then he hyperventilates and starts muttering about the market and apocalypse and armageddon and the end of the world as we know it. And I laugh. Cause if he was really worried, he'd stop spending so much money. And honey, can he spend....
But at least he's talking about it, so I have to give him some credit. Now I just have to call our poor architect and have the embarassing conversation about starting up again and by the way he can't show the husband his face because every single time husband gets an email, the hyperventilating starts again.
I looked at the BlogHer registration page and I'm trying to figure out how to sign up, and then realized, holy shit, I'll have to use my real name. I can't just show up with a bag over my face, a wallet full of unmarked bills and a business card with Aurelia on it, can I? I know lots of people use pseudonyms and for them, it's no big deal, but for me---it's personal safety. This is going to take some figuring out. I mean, I'll need the damn passport, and credit cards. And what do they put on your conference badge? Your fake name? Your blog address? Whatever you want?
I'm already planning my wardrobe here...hoodies, a wig, colored contacts, and a set of fake buck teeth.
This is going to be worse than that crime victims conference I went to a few years back, where the person running it decided to have the entire thing filmed and didn't tell anyone before. Then she announced that 80% of the non-police attendees were crime victims. Every single cop, judge, and lawyer in the place was walking up to the civilians on the coffee breaks and asking, "So, what kind of crime happened to you?", cause they had no idea what the hell else to ask. They were horribly uncomfortable and we were all ducking and hiding everytime a camera swung our way. (I mean, duh, we were all the victims of personal crimes, not corporate fraud. Sensitivity--not so much.) It was total utter hell. Most of us didn't want to walk up to the microphones to talk, so there was almost no participation.
But last years BlogHer seemed by all accounts to be very well-attended and lots of participation, so they must be better at it, yet there were pictures everywhere?
Okey-dokey people, I know some of you attended last year and didn't come out completely, soooo, how did you do it? Real Name? Blog Name? Did you tell some people some things, and say nothing to others? Did you have two cards with different stuff on them? Or is everyone magically completely cool?
As for the lasers and health stuff? I am going to call my GP and ask her for some referrals this week. I've been researching and the price and quality varies pretty dramatically. And who knows if they correspond? It's my eyesight at minimum, so I don't want to go cheap, but I don't want to spend stupidly.
Meanwhile, my period will not end, and my hormones are not acting pleasantly. So I'm going to have to get that under control. It's still not good, months later. I'm getting an ultrasound next week to check if the damn Fibroid ever shrank and left.
I have to know. Am I the only person in the blogosphere who still has IF-related health problems after finishing having kids? Cause none of you ever seem to talk about it, unless you are trying for another baby. And I have no intention of spending the rest of my natural life having my period 2 weeks out of 4. It sucks people. Really.
So help? Anyone? BlogHer questions and cooter questions?
I was 138ish. That by the way means that with clothes and glasses on, I was 138.9 or 139, and with clothes off and contacts in like in the morning before I get dressed, I was 138. I'm trying to weigh myself in the morning, same time of day, and not dressed, because I have discovered that clothes, and watches and glasses and belts and shoes can really change your weight! So you know---you think, hey I lost weight, and then you weigh yourself at night with a bunch of clothes and bam, you think you gained....yeah, I know, you all knew this, but on behalf of the ignorant here, be generous.
I am 135 right now, a week later. I was 134, but I go up and down here and there, so it's not bad. My bodyfat is 32%, which is a hell of a lot lower than it was before. (I told you I had no muscles...if you check the web, that is baaad baby.)
So I've stuck with the no alcohol regime, (12,000 extra calories per month if you have a couple glasses a night, eeek!!) and I am eating smaller amounts of normal meals, but all the same things. I am not buying smarties and Reese's peanut butter cups which are my major weaknesses, and I am trying to eat some more veggies, but I already have enough diet restrictions as it is, since I am severely lactose intolerant, and have other health issues, so I can't do any of the fad diets out there, or detoxing, or protein diets.
I am stuck with moderation. Nuthin' fancy. I already eat pretty low fat as it is, since everything I touch is dairy free, but I have to make the kids meals with some dairy and higher levels of fat or they will not have the normal weight gain they need. We try to keep the transfats to a minimum cause they aren't good for anyone.
But in the end, I just eat a smaller portion of whatever I was eating before. Like, instead of 8 chocolate cookies, I only eat two. If I eat none, I just feel bitter and deprived, so I decided not to ban chocolate treats completely.
Okay, as for renovations, we have discovered more leaks in the roof above Kaz's bedroom. And a major crack in the bathtub/shower handle, and I think we have mold in the house again because I am continuously stuffy and it isn't possible to have allergies like this in winter, unless I have mold somewhere again. So my poor darling husband is slowly starting to accept that he has to renovate sooner as opposed to later. The only question is how much to spend and how far to go. Personally, I want to do it right, not luxuriously, but nicely, and live here until the kids grow up and then we can move into a condo. He wants to spend as little as possible (Cheep, cheep cheep says the birdie!) and live here until we can't stand it any longer and then beg on bended knee for someone to buy it off of us. And I'm like, umm, why would we beg? Why would we put in cheap, crappy materials and just have to redo it in a few years when everything breaks? And then he hyperventilates and starts muttering about the market and apocalypse and armageddon and the end of the world as we know it. And I laugh. Cause if he was really worried, he'd stop spending so much money. And honey, can he spend....
But at least he's talking about it, so I have to give him some credit. Now I just have to call our poor architect and have the embarassing conversation about starting up again and by the way he can't show the husband his face because every single time husband gets an email, the hyperventilating starts again.
I looked at the BlogHer registration page and I'm trying to figure out how to sign up, and then realized, holy shit, I'll have to use my real name. I can't just show up with a bag over my face, a wallet full of unmarked bills and a business card with Aurelia on it, can I? I know lots of people use pseudonyms and for them, it's no big deal, but for me---it's personal safety. This is going to take some figuring out. I mean, I'll need the damn passport, and credit cards. And what do they put on your conference badge? Your fake name? Your blog address? Whatever you want?
I'm already planning my wardrobe here...hoodies, a wig, colored contacts, and a set of fake buck teeth.
This is going to be worse than that crime victims conference I went to a few years back, where the person running it decided to have the entire thing filmed and didn't tell anyone before. Then she announced that 80% of the non-police attendees were crime victims. Every single cop, judge, and lawyer in the place was walking up to the civilians on the coffee breaks and asking, "So, what kind of crime happened to you?", cause they had no idea what the hell else to ask. They were horribly uncomfortable and we were all ducking and hiding everytime a camera swung our way. (I mean, duh, we were all the victims of personal crimes, not corporate fraud. Sensitivity--not so much.) It was total utter hell. Most of us didn't want to walk up to the microphones to talk, so there was almost no participation.
But last years BlogHer seemed by all accounts to be very well-attended and lots of participation, so they must be better at it, yet there were pictures everywhere?
Okey-dokey people, I know some of you attended last year and didn't come out completely, soooo, how did you do it? Real Name? Blog Name? Did you tell some people some things, and say nothing to others? Did you have two cards with different stuff on them? Or is everyone magically completely cool?
As for the lasers and health stuff? I am going to call my GP and ask her for some referrals this week. I've been researching and the price and quality varies pretty dramatically. And who knows if they correspond? It's my eyesight at minimum, so I don't want to go cheap, but I don't want to spend stupidly.
Meanwhile, my period will not end, and my hormones are not acting pleasantly. So I'm going to have to get that under control. It's still not good, months later. I'm getting an ultrasound next week to check if the damn Fibroid ever shrank and left.
I have to know. Am I the only person in the blogosphere who still has IF-related health problems after finishing having kids? Cause none of you ever seem to talk about it, unless you are trying for another baby. And I have no intention of spending the rest of my natural life having my period 2 weeks out of 4. It sucks people. Really.
So help? Anyone? BlogHer questions and cooter questions?
Friday, November 21, 2008
After the last post
Just a little message to the new political readers I seem to have picked up lately.
This is not solely a political blog like Liblogs and other aggregators and like many personal bloggers I do not just look at things from an objective point of view. So, when I post about a policy issue that the government needs to fix, it's not because I'm searching for something to say and found a news story, it's because in my own life, I have encountered a particular situation and perhaps have been dealing with it publicly or privately possibly for months. Even if I don't link to precise proof in a post, it doesn't matter, because I'm simply reporting what I as Jane average citizen have witnessed and my reaction to it. If you don't believe what I type, then google your own damn fingers away and find links, or fuck off. Real life is not a university essay, complete with credits and footnotes and bibliographies, and leaving comments asking for proof is high school. This is the real world, complete with dead babies, and live kids, and vaginas, and hot flashes, and discrimination and ridiculous encounters with government and business and neighbours and messy family situations.
So to the commenter, "Fact checker", I left you a comment afterwards with the links you so desperately desired. I assume that you will still doubt me. Your comment wasn't the thing that pissed me off, by they way, it was your name. Oh well, guess who doesn't give a flying fuck about what you think?
As to the subject at hand, the issue still remains and it needs to be said, that if Passport Canada really cared about protecting children from kidnapping and other custodial disputes, then they would require ALL children to present long form birth certificates, and then print those names in the passport of the child. That way a happily married dad could not simply sneakily pack up the kids and flee on a plane with those normal passports to say, the Middle East, and refuse to return the kids. As it is, he could just forge a letter from the "supposed" mom saying he has permission to go and without proof of who the mom is, they would just let the kids go. Poor mom comes home from work, and voila, too late.
No, this is about treating certain children like lower class citizens. If you disagree and wish to be an anonymous tithead, feel free to go back to LibLogs or the Blogging Tories and have fun there. They tolerate that shit. I do not.
Ok, done with that for today. Next.
My Doc called with my hormone levels from yesterdays blood test. Sigh....
FSH 19
LH 11
E2 683
Progesterone 2
I had a sort of AF a few days back. Not much. So this might be early in a cycle. Or not. I have been taking some estrace here and there to help with the hot flashes, but not much else. Debating lower doses of DHEA to help my hormones work nice, without making any eggies. I want to feel normal, but never ever ever ever ever ever get pregnant again. That delivery scared the shit out of me. I'm terrified of dying from another abruption, one that might not get caught in time. And of course, guess who doesn't feel like getting a vasectomy?
Yah
So looking at those numbers, no wonder I feel menopausal. Sooo, I'm going to try to take some progesterone with the estrogen and we scheduled an ultrasound to check on my fibroid. Hopefully it shrank after the c-section, but since it was all done so fast, no one noted it on the surgical report. Also, during surgery no one could find my ovaries. Apparently, they are missing. Should I send out an APB?
Seriously, I love advice from fellow infertiles. Any thoughts on what might be happening?
Is it the fibroid? The breastfeeding? The ovarian failure returning?
Where do you think my ovaries are? On vacation?
I bet they got a passport no problem.
This is not solely a political blog like Liblogs and other aggregators and like many personal bloggers I do not just look at things from an objective point of view. So, when I post about a policy issue that the government needs to fix, it's not because I'm searching for something to say and found a news story, it's because in my own life, I have encountered a particular situation and perhaps have been dealing with it publicly or privately possibly for months. Even if I don't link to precise proof in a post, it doesn't matter, because I'm simply reporting what I as Jane average citizen have witnessed and my reaction to it. If you don't believe what I type, then google your own damn fingers away and find links, or fuck off. Real life is not a university essay, complete with credits and footnotes and bibliographies, and leaving comments asking for proof is high school. This is the real world, complete with dead babies, and live kids, and vaginas, and hot flashes, and discrimination and ridiculous encounters with government and business and neighbours and messy family situations.
So to the commenter, "Fact checker", I left you a comment afterwards with the links you so desperately desired. I assume that you will still doubt me. Your comment wasn't the thing that pissed me off, by they way, it was your name. Oh well, guess who doesn't give a flying fuck about what you think?
As to the subject at hand, the issue still remains and it needs to be said, that if Passport Canada really cared about protecting children from kidnapping and other custodial disputes, then they would require ALL children to present long form birth certificates, and then print those names in the passport of the child. That way a happily married dad could not simply sneakily pack up the kids and flee on a plane with those normal passports to say, the Middle East, and refuse to return the kids. As it is, he could just forge a letter from the "supposed" mom saying he has permission to go and without proof of who the mom is, they would just let the kids go. Poor mom comes home from work, and voila, too late.
No, this is about treating certain children like lower class citizens. If you disagree and wish to be an anonymous tithead, feel free to go back to LibLogs or the Blogging Tories and have fun there. They tolerate that shit. I do not.
Ok, done with that for today. Next.
My Doc called with my hormone levels from yesterdays blood test. Sigh....
FSH 19
LH 11
E2 683
Progesterone 2
I had a sort of AF a few days back. Not much. So this might be early in a cycle. Or not. I have been taking some estrace here and there to help with the hot flashes, but not much else. Debating lower doses of DHEA to help my hormones work nice, without making any eggies. I want to feel normal, but never ever ever ever ever ever get pregnant again. That delivery scared the shit out of me. I'm terrified of dying from another abruption, one that might not get caught in time. And of course, guess who doesn't feel like getting a vasectomy?
Yah
So looking at those numbers, no wonder I feel menopausal. Sooo, I'm going to try to take some progesterone with the estrogen and we scheduled an ultrasound to check on my fibroid. Hopefully it shrank after the c-section, but since it was all done so fast, no one noted it on the surgical report. Also, during surgery no one could find my ovaries. Apparently, they are missing. Should I send out an APB?
Seriously, I love advice from fellow infertiles. Any thoughts on what might be happening?
Is it the fibroid? The breastfeeding? The ovarian failure returning?
Where do you think my ovaries are? On vacation?
I bet they got a passport no problem.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
I don't want to do anything
I have paperwork and organizing and emailing and a zillion other things to do, and frankly I'd rather not do any of it.
Is it bad that I just want to curl up and pretend the universe isn't doing anything, and it doesn't matter if I ever get my calendar and contacts up to date?
And I'm behind on blogs too, because I just can't keep up with NaBloMoPo reading, never mind commenting, and I haven't even started in on Christmas preparation. I am annoyed at how my blog looks and I'd love to do a makeover and update my blog list and what have you, but that would be risky and require concentration and I'm just plain out of that. (Even if I hired someone to do it, they'd likely want me to tell them what to do, and I have NO creative ideas right now, none.) My husband wants me to get some things done around the house, like get the dining room chairs repaired, but that requires an entire day long separation from the baby or schlepping him around to fabric stores, plus he wants me to go buy a new stove, but he doesn't want to pick it out. Which means I will likely buy the wrong one. And I am having more passport trouble, and I can't find a decent vacation place for Christmas for five, everything is for four. Unless we skip school and go in February or January. Crap....
I think I'm also in a bit of a bad mood because lately, I've been taking some risks and telling people what I think, gently and politely phrased, but still, being honest, and it's not always a good idea. I think the world appreciates liars better.
Mostly, it's the hot flashes. My estrogen wasn't supposed to drop this quickly while I was still breastfeeding exclusively, and yet, here I am, sweaty and hot and having temperature issues and cranky and irritated. I had some estrogen and started taking it again, but then I ran out and now I can't see my GP til next week to get a new scrip. (It's not exactly an emergency in their books...I get it, but still, crap!) Ovarian failure sucks, and not just on the pregnancy front.
Plus, the baby is up teething, or something....he just doesn't want to sleep. I can handle him getting up once at night, but 5-6 times is killing me. I don't know if his room is too cold, or the Grobag is letting his arms flap in his face. He broke out of his swaddle blanket a few weeks ago and I switched him over to the Grobag, but other than making an extra large swaddle blanket with industrial strength velcro, I have no idea what to do. He's nineteen pounds and strong as an ox, but he can't quite roll over both ways all alone, so I doubt anything will work that I buy. (He can roll over from front to back, but not quite back to front. Almost.)
Okay, I have to go do some stuff for the baptism party we are planning for him. The party I have NO motivation to plan for, but have to do since it's coming up.
I just feel like crap.
Is it bad that I just want to curl up and pretend the universe isn't doing anything, and it doesn't matter if I ever get my calendar and contacts up to date?
And I'm behind on blogs too, because I just can't keep up with NaBloMoPo reading, never mind commenting, and I haven't even started in on Christmas preparation. I am annoyed at how my blog looks and I'd love to do a makeover and update my blog list and what have you, but that would be risky and require concentration and I'm just plain out of that. (Even if I hired someone to do it, they'd likely want me to tell them what to do, and I have NO creative ideas right now, none.) My husband wants me to get some things done around the house, like get the dining room chairs repaired, but that requires an entire day long separation from the baby or schlepping him around to fabric stores, plus he wants me to go buy a new stove, but he doesn't want to pick it out. Which means I will likely buy the wrong one. And I am having more passport trouble, and I can't find a decent vacation place for Christmas for five, everything is for four. Unless we skip school and go in February or January. Crap....
I think I'm also in a bit of a bad mood because lately, I've been taking some risks and telling people what I think, gently and politely phrased, but still, being honest, and it's not always a good idea. I think the world appreciates liars better.
Mostly, it's the hot flashes. My estrogen wasn't supposed to drop this quickly while I was still breastfeeding exclusively, and yet, here I am, sweaty and hot and having temperature issues and cranky and irritated. I had some estrogen and started taking it again, but then I ran out and now I can't see my GP til next week to get a new scrip. (It's not exactly an emergency in their books...I get it, but still, crap!) Ovarian failure sucks, and not just on the pregnancy front.
Plus, the baby is up teething, or something....he just doesn't want to sleep. I can handle him getting up once at night, but 5-6 times is killing me. I don't know if his room is too cold, or the Grobag is letting his arms flap in his face. He broke out of his swaddle blanket a few weeks ago and I switched him over to the Grobag, but other than making an extra large swaddle blanket with industrial strength velcro, I have no idea what to do. He's nineteen pounds and strong as an ox, but he can't quite roll over both ways all alone, so I doubt anything will work that I buy. (He can roll over from front to back, but not quite back to front. Almost.)
Okay, I have to go do some stuff for the baptism party we are planning for him. The party I have NO motivation to plan for, but have to do since it's coming up.
I just feel like crap.
Friday, September 19, 2008
terrible horrible no good very bad week
My life is like this book this week.
I was cutting Julius' nails with a tiny set of nail clippers and I almost cut off his thumb. Seriously, blood everywhere, screaming baby, hysterical mother....I know I should just chew his nails off with my teeth, but they are so hard now, so difficult to chew through, I was almost tearing them. Poor thing, he's healing, but I feel guilty as hell.
Mac is having trouble in school again. He just can't sit still ever ever ever. If you ever want to see a living example of ADHD, he's it toots. He gets up at dinner and runs around like Helen Keller before Annie Sullivan taught her sign and got through to her. It takes hours to do homework, not because he doesn't know the answers, but because he can't sit still long enough to write them down!
I know he needs help, and it's just a brain thing and no big deal, but this week, I feel like a failure because we had to go have an appointment with the psychologist and lay it all out. Like I'm finally admitting that I passed on my crappy genes and gave my kid something bad.
Same with Kaz, but in his case---the work at his new school, (needs a name, how about St.Catholic Boys School? St.Cbs for short), anyway the work at his new school is incredibly easy compared to his old private school, mostly because at St.Cbs they are trying to amalgamate the kids from public school, who are way way behind, with the kids from private school who are way way ahead. So their solution seems to be to just go with the lowest common denominator....drives me crazy. If the public school kids can't keep up, then they should just get tutored. Dumbing down the work just so they can ease the transition is not the solution. Which makes me sound like a snot I guess, but here I am agonizing over how my kid will need extra help and I don't want to label him and meanwhile he's done all of this work before.
Like in Grade 3 for fuck's sake!
So why am I feeling guilty over my kid having LD/ADD?
And why should I have to go through this much crap to get him the challenging work he deserves?
Sigh.....
Also, I got a speeding ticket. For only going a teensy bit over the limit, on a straightaway empty section of road, with no sidewalks, and no cross streets.
My toilet broke, and I have to buy a new one, (we tried the cheap repair, but really, it's no good in the end). I hate spending money on this house when we are tearing it down.
Speaking of house reno, I haven't sent my wish list to the architect at this point....and I have to or I just gave him a large deposit for nothing. Trouble is, I keep changing my mind about what kind of house to build. Ultramodern design? Traditional Victorian? Basic Suburban Stucco? Faux French Provincial? Monolithic Concrete Brutalism? Meanwhile the roof is going to leak again this winter, possibly falling in.....and the floor is falling apart what with all the nails we have to remove due to nail pops.
The internet broke and I spent one entire day on the phone to India trying to fix it.
Then I had another argument with my friend Maddie about schools and IEPs and stigma and I swear---there are some things that we just disagree on and should never ever speak of. Ever!
And I'm on a new diet now. The no wine, limited treats, and no overeating diet. Like only one breakfast and one lunch and one dinner per day. And no more icing out of the can. No fair!
So I am grumpy. And very very very behind on everything I want to do.
P.S. Did I mention that I got a hot flash yesterday? Yep...fuck, my ovarian failure is back, so much for breastfeeding holding it off......
I was cutting Julius' nails with a tiny set of nail clippers and I almost cut off his thumb. Seriously, blood everywhere, screaming baby, hysterical mother....I know I should just chew his nails off with my teeth, but they are so hard now, so difficult to chew through, I was almost tearing them. Poor thing, he's healing, but I feel guilty as hell.
Mac is having trouble in school again. He just can't sit still ever ever ever. If you ever want to see a living example of ADHD, he's it toots. He gets up at dinner and runs around like Helen Keller before Annie Sullivan taught her sign and got through to her. It takes hours to do homework, not because he doesn't know the answers, but because he can't sit still long enough to write them down!
I know he needs help, and it's just a brain thing and no big deal, but this week, I feel like a failure because we had to go have an appointment with the psychologist and lay it all out. Like I'm finally admitting that I passed on my crappy genes and gave my kid something bad.
Same with Kaz, but in his case---the work at his new school, (needs a name, how about St.Catholic Boys School? St.Cbs for short), anyway the work at his new school is incredibly easy compared to his old private school, mostly because at St.Cbs they are trying to amalgamate the kids from public school, who are way way behind, with the kids from private school who are way way ahead. So their solution seems to be to just go with the lowest common denominator....drives me crazy. If the public school kids can't keep up, then they should just get tutored. Dumbing down the work just so they can ease the transition is not the solution. Which makes me sound like a snot I guess, but here I am agonizing over how my kid will need extra help and I don't want to label him and meanwhile he's done all of this work before.
Like in Grade 3 for fuck's sake!
So why am I feeling guilty over my kid having LD/ADD?
And why should I have to go through this much crap to get him the challenging work he deserves?
Sigh.....
Also, I got a speeding ticket. For only going a teensy bit over the limit, on a straightaway empty section of road, with no sidewalks, and no cross streets.
My toilet broke, and I have to buy a new one, (we tried the cheap repair, but really, it's no good in the end). I hate spending money on this house when we are tearing it down.
Speaking of house reno, I haven't sent my wish list to the architect at this point....and I have to or I just gave him a large deposit for nothing. Trouble is, I keep changing my mind about what kind of house to build. Ultramodern design? Traditional Victorian? Basic Suburban Stucco? Faux French Provincial? Monolithic Concrete Brutalism? Meanwhile the roof is going to leak again this winter, possibly falling in.....and the floor is falling apart what with all the nails we have to remove due to nail pops.
The internet broke and I spent one entire day on the phone to India trying to fix it.
Then I had another argument with my friend Maddie about schools and IEPs and stigma and I swear---there are some things that we just disagree on and should never ever speak of. Ever!
And I'm on a new diet now. The no wine, limited treats, and no overeating diet. Like only one breakfast and one lunch and one dinner per day. And no more icing out of the can. No fair!
So I am grumpy. And very very very behind on everything I want to do.
P.S. Did I mention that I got a hot flash yesterday? Yep...fuck, my ovarian failure is back, so much for breastfeeding holding it off......
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
9 days is too long
My Doctor switched me to Thursdays for my ultrasound for the next two weeks, and then I'll have an appointment with him afterwards. Actually, my appointment is with another doctor for this week, because the original one is on vacation.
Again more change....not my strong suit. Cack....
So, I haven't had an ultrasound for 8 days and 8 hours now, not that I'm counting the time or anything. It's supposed to be 7 days in a week people. I have to wait 7 whole days, and I've managed to wait that long by saying, "Hey, one day at a time, right, it's only 7 days, then 6 days, then 5 days....and then I have to restart my anxiety clock!!!! WTF!" And last night I was completely convinced I was no longer pregnant, even though I was kind of uncertain about my stomach, so uncertain that this morning I felt sick.
And this afternoon, even sicker, so sick I had to stop google chatting. Guess the little bean is still in there.
This post was going to be longer, but I just moved most of it to a word document because I'm a little nervous about it, and I need to rewrite it about seventy or eighty times. Yes, I am a tiny bit stressed over here. How about a joke to lighten the mood?
Last night, I heard that Nancy Grace has given birth to twins at the age of 48. And I don't like her courtroom reporting/antics to begin with, so I turn to Mr.Cotta and raved and ranted "Yet another famous woman telling the public it was her own eggs, all natural, etc. etc. when no infertile gets pregnant over the age 44 without donor egg"!
"It's impossible! Medically impossible!"
His deadpan reply, "I know a woman with diagnosed premature ovarian failure, no eggs left, who got pregnant with her own eggs after everyone said it couldn't happen."
Shutting up now.
Again more change....not my strong suit. Cack....
So, I haven't had an ultrasound for 8 days and 8 hours now, not that I'm counting the time or anything. It's supposed to be 7 days in a week people. I have to wait 7 whole days, and I've managed to wait that long by saying, "Hey, one day at a time, right, it's only 7 days, then 6 days, then 5 days....and then I have to restart my anxiety clock!!!! WTF!" And last night I was completely convinced I was no longer pregnant, even though I was kind of uncertain about my stomach, so uncertain that this morning I felt sick.
And this afternoon, even sicker, so sick I had to stop google chatting. Guess the little bean is still in there.
This post was going to be longer, but I just moved most of it to a word document because I'm a little nervous about it, and I need to rewrite it about seventy or eighty times. Yes, I am a tiny bit stressed over here. How about a joke to lighten the mood?
Last night, I heard that Nancy Grace has given birth to twins at the age of 48. And I don't like her courtroom reporting/antics to begin with, so I turn to Mr.Cotta and raved and ranted "Yet another famous woman telling the public it was her own eggs, all natural, etc. etc. when no infertile gets pregnant over the age 44 without donor egg"!
"It's impossible! Medically impossible!"
His deadpan reply, "I know a woman with diagnosed premature ovarian failure, no eggs left, who got pregnant with her own eggs after everyone said it couldn't happen."
Shutting up now.
Friday, October 05, 2007
I don't know what to type
There's no way of beating around the bush on this one.
I'm pregnant.
That BFN? It was a BFN when I peed on a stick, but when I went for the blood test Monday, it was a beta of 116.
And on Wednesday it was a beta of 365.
And today, Friday, it's 996.
I'm on baby aspirin, 400 mg of prometrium, intravaginally, 5,000 iu a day of fragmin, and enough folic acid to choke a horse.
My first ultrasound is on the 16th.
So why did I wait to tell all of you? Because I didn't actually believe it was true myself, until it doubled Wednesday, and I had to tell my husband first before I told the entire internet. You know, my husband, the guy who wasn't so sure it was a good idea to try again, in light of the fact that our batting average sucks when it comes to live baby achievement?
I was kind of afraid to tell him, because I also am a little over the top psycho emotionally when I am pregnant. In fact, the roller coaster from hell is the usual way in which he describes it.
But instead of getting upset, or overly anxious, my darling sweet fabulous husband took me in his arms and told me he was happy. And he really really wants me to try to stay calm.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DHEA WORKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
EVERYONE ON EARTH SHOULD TAKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TO ALL THE FERTILITY DOCS WHO TOLD ME TO GIVE UP, "YOU WERE WRONG, YOU ASSHOLES!!!!!"
As you can see, I am not so good at calm.
I know this pregnancy could end tomorrow. I have only a tiny chance of getting a an actual live baby out of this.
But for today, for right now, for each and every day that I am pregnant, I am going to be thankful for this tiny little chance at some joy.
One day at a time.
I'm pregnant.
That BFN? It was a BFN when I peed on a stick, but when I went for the blood test Monday, it was a beta of 116.
And on Wednesday it was a beta of 365.
And today, Friday, it's 996.
I'm on baby aspirin, 400 mg of prometrium, intravaginally, 5,000 iu a day of fragmin, and enough folic acid to choke a horse.
My first ultrasound is on the 16th.
So why did I wait to tell all of you? Because I didn't actually believe it was true myself, until it doubled Wednesday, and I had to tell my husband first before I told the entire internet. You know, my husband, the guy who wasn't so sure it was a good idea to try again, in light of the fact that our batting average sucks when it comes to live baby achievement?
I was kind of afraid to tell him, because I also am a little over the top psycho emotionally when I am pregnant. In fact, the roller coaster from hell is the usual way in which he describes it.
But instead of getting upset, or overly anxious, my darling sweet fabulous husband took me in his arms and told me he was happy. And he really really wants me to try to stay calm.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DHEA WORKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
EVERYONE ON EARTH SHOULD TAKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TO ALL THE FERTILITY DOCS WHO TOLD ME TO GIVE UP, "YOU WERE WRONG, YOU ASSHOLES!!!!!"
As you can see, I am not so good at calm.
I know this pregnancy could end tomorrow. I have only a tiny chance of getting a an actual live baby out of this.
But for today, for right now, for each and every day that I am pregnant, I am going to be thankful for this tiny little chance at some joy.
One day at a time.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Well, maybe I spoke to soon
The kids are buried in TV, and my husband is back to work, so maybe I will have time for blogging? A little anyway, here and there.
Blogging in between scrubbing out every single drawer and cupboard and setting mousetraps; yes, apparently there WAS a small advantage to having cats. Some little creatures have apparently moved in, and need to be evicted now, buggers. Next jobs include getting in various repair people to help fix the nightmare that is my electrical, plaster work and plumbing. The woman who was supposed to come, hasn't, and in fact left for her vacation with just an email telling me that maybe she could stop by and fix a few things before. Plus she had lost my phone number. Annoying to say the least.
Anyway, in case you are wondering what has prompted this recent round of renovating, reorganizing and cleaning, basically I'm trying to fill in some time and keep myself occupied while I figure out what's going on with my wonky thyroid & reproductive system and contemplate going back to school. We can finally afford the tuition and I'd love to give it another go, even if I only do a couple of courses.
Plus, we can finally afford to do the major renovation we'd always wanted. (Or at least get the renovation loan & mortgage for it!) That will take a while to plan and get going though, (maybe a year before we break ground) and will probably include a stop at the Committee of Adjustment, and possibly the Ontario Municipal Board. Ever try to renovate in Ontario? And do a really good job? Impossible in this city anyway. Even Extreme Makeover: Home Edition couldn't get it through all the political hoops required. Unless I want to put up an overpriced faux French chateaux stucco McMansion, or an imitation Victorian made out of chipboard and PVC siding. THEN they'd let me. (Apologies if you have one of those, and you like it and it fits in your neighborhood, great, go for it. I just think other things are possible. Better made, better designed houses, maybe even ones that don't break and leak and fall apart 20 minutes after you close the deal.)
So why fix anything now? Because things are breaking down and life will be easier if my house is functional in the meantime.
Oh oh and good news, I heard from that osteoporosis nurse about my numbers from last month. My FSH was down to 7, no E2 so I can't compare, but my Vit.D was 66 and my calcium was 2.18, so not so bad after all. They like it higher in someone with my Z-score and profile, but overall, not a crisis, just a reason to get a little more Vitamin D and Calcium. And no, a normal reading for my FSH doesn't mean that I don't have POF. Last winter it was 22, and it goes up and down like a see saw regularly. Last summer it was pretty low, but that didn't mean much. Anyway, the DHEA seems to be helping a bit, so we'll see what we shall see, eh?
Off to scrub my cupboards now. Anyone know where I can rent a cat for an afternoon?
Blogging in between scrubbing out every single drawer and cupboard and setting mousetraps; yes, apparently there WAS a small advantage to having cats. Some little creatures have apparently moved in, and need to be evicted now, buggers. Next jobs include getting in various repair people to help fix the nightmare that is my electrical, plaster work and plumbing. The woman who was supposed to come, hasn't, and in fact left for her vacation with just an email telling me that maybe she could stop by and fix a few things before. Plus she had lost my phone number. Annoying to say the least.
Anyway, in case you are wondering what has prompted this recent round of renovating, reorganizing and cleaning, basically I'm trying to fill in some time and keep myself occupied while I figure out what's going on with my wonky thyroid & reproductive system and contemplate going back to school. We can finally afford the tuition and I'd love to give it another go, even if I only do a couple of courses.
Plus, we can finally afford to do the major renovation we'd always wanted. (Or at least get the renovation loan & mortgage for it!) That will take a while to plan and get going though, (maybe a year before we break ground) and will probably include a stop at the Committee of Adjustment, and possibly the Ontario Municipal Board. Ever try to renovate in Ontario? And do a really good job? Impossible in this city anyway. Even Extreme Makeover: Home Edition couldn't get it through all the political hoops required. Unless I want to put up an overpriced faux French chateaux stucco McMansion, or an imitation Victorian made out of chipboard and PVC siding. THEN they'd let me. (Apologies if you have one of those, and you like it and it fits in your neighborhood, great, go for it. I just think other things are possible. Better made, better designed houses, maybe even ones that don't break and leak and fall apart 20 minutes after you close the deal.)
So why fix anything now? Because things are breaking down and life will be easier if my house is functional in the meantime.
Oh oh and good news, I heard from that osteoporosis nurse about my numbers from last month. My FSH was down to 7, no E2 so I can't compare, but my Vit.D was 66 and my calcium was 2.18, so not so bad after all. They like it higher in someone with my Z-score and profile, but overall, not a crisis, just a reason to get a little more Vitamin D and Calcium. And no, a normal reading for my FSH doesn't mean that I don't have POF. Last winter it was 22, and it goes up and down like a see saw regularly. Last summer it was pretty low, but that didn't mean much. Anyway, the DHEA seems to be helping a bit, so we'll see what we shall see, eh?
Off to scrub my cupboards now. Anyone know where I can rent a cat for an afternoon?
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
My rusty ovaries
So my last couple of posts have been rather amusing, eh? Good to have a giggle or two isn't it?
In all seriousness, I've started to take DHEA because Dr. Eyebrows is so very chuffed about it. Apparently it makes ovaries rise from the dead and shine like chrome, instead of the rusting and creaking currently on display. I had to send away for it because Health Canada has themselves all in tizzy over it. You need special access permission to import it to Canada or something. Silly me, I thought we already had a permission system for drugs, called "prescriptions from medical doctors."
Yep, good enough system for prescribing percocet, but not good enough for DHEA.
So, I've googled searched, sent out an email, and still am not sure if I'm taking enough. I'm only on one 25 mg pill a day which seems to low based on some examples and some studies which claim that egg production and quality increased dramatically. (Fewer chromosomal abnormalities apparently) I'm not just interested in fertility here either. I am kind of hoping it will help knock my body back into normal hormone territory over the long term.
This place seems to have a large number of women in a study already. Any opinions?
Dr. Eyebrows has lots of women in his yet to be finished study who seem to have spontaneously become pregnant, but I don't know how many were POF like me, or if they all seem to be 35+ women who are naturally entering menopause but still have lots of antral follicles. I have pretty much none of those.
On Day 3 you all seem to have 20-30 antrals. A year ago, the last time I let anyone count the buggers, I had two, one on each ovary. I used to believe that was okay, cause all you need is one, but we apparently need more than that to end up ovulating.
So my last two hopes are on DHEA or on using estrogen or both. Any opinions? Assvice? Help?
In all seriousness, I've started to take DHEA because Dr. Eyebrows is so very chuffed about it. Apparently it makes ovaries rise from the dead and shine like chrome, instead of the rusting and creaking currently on display. I had to send away for it because Health Canada has themselves all in tizzy over it. You need special access permission to import it to Canada or something. Silly me, I thought we already had a permission system for drugs, called "prescriptions from medical doctors."
Yep, good enough system for prescribing percocet, but not good enough for DHEA.
So, I've googled searched, sent out an email, and still am not sure if I'm taking enough. I'm only on one 25 mg pill a day which seems to low based on some examples and some studies which claim that egg production and quality increased dramatically. (Fewer chromosomal abnormalities apparently) I'm not just interested in fertility here either. I am kind of hoping it will help knock my body back into normal hormone territory over the long term.
This place seems to have a large number of women in a study already. Any opinions?
Dr. Eyebrows has lots of women in his yet to be finished study who seem to have spontaneously become pregnant, but I don't know how many were POF like me, or if they all seem to be 35+ women who are naturally entering menopause but still have lots of antral follicles. I have pretty much none of those.
On Day 3 you all seem to have 20-30 antrals. A year ago, the last time I let anyone count the buggers, I had two, one on each ovary. I used to believe that was okay, cause all you need is one, but we apparently need more than that to end up ovulating.
So my last two hopes are on DHEA or on using estrogen or both. Any opinions? Assvice? Help?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Hmmmmm
So at my RE's office, I chatted with him about the estrogen study. He said he's read it, but seemed to be confusing it with some past older studies that weren't randomized control trials, which this one was, & my preference if you can find them. But in the meantime, he did suggest taking DHEA. He's running a study on it, and has found really good results for women with high FSH and those edging towards 38+. I have to take it for 3 months before he will agree to test me and see how my body is reacting. So I'm back in September, I guess.
Before you all assume he is some sort of new age non-science guy...he is the exact opposite. Dr. Eyebrows is the living epitome of the absent-minded professor who loves to bury himself in a pile of journal articles and a lab. He likes people, but more so under a microscope, y'know? Very very sweet...unfortunately not all the staff at his clinic are, but I work on ignoring the ones I don't like and paying attention to the ones I do like.
I'm digressing, anyway, this is the first time he has ever told me to take anything non-prescription. Beyond the general "be healthy" order, he thinks the vast majority of the all natural stuff is unproven, etc...so he doesn't like to guilt his patients if they don't become holistically pure. This is a real change for him to tell me to take this supplement. A 180. So what the heck?
At this point I'm throwing the spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks.
As for my friend...ehhhh, I'm already feeling some icky danger signals. She's backed off quickly, but when we discussed my HRT regime and my osteoporosis, and my thyroid stuff, in quick succession, she implied in words and tone that HRT is not good, osteopenia/osteoporosis doesn't exist, (it's a scam by drug companies according to her-she saw it on Oprah, must be true, just ignore the bone scan results...), ADD drugs are bad and addictive, and my thyroid issues might be solved by taking antidepressants. *eyeroll*
Except that she hasn't see me in a year and both my actual real shrinks agree I'm not depressed. I'm pissed off that I can't get a proper diagnosis or some respect from the Docs....and I'm grumpy about my husband quite often, but those are legitimate feelings. Depression is an inappropriate response to an event, not an appropriate one. But oops I forgot, women aren't allowed to be sad in our society, much less be sad over a *nothing* like a miscarriage right? I'll never forget one shrink years ago telling me that if anyone was still grieving over the death of a loved one, a husband, a child, whatever, after 2 weeks, it was wrong and I wasn't adjusting appropriately and therefore depressed.
So yeah, I have a feeling that this one will end up kind of arm's length....I care about her, but I want a friend, not a junior wanna be therapist who insists that everything I do is wrong and everything she does is right. I've been wrong lots, and I apologize all the time. She rarely admits to faults, and I'm beginning to remember this now. Catherine (and several others of you) might be right-I'm going to have to sit down and figure out what I get out of this relationship and what I don't, and whether it's worth maintaining.
Hmmmmm
Before you all assume he is some sort of new age non-science guy...he is the exact opposite. Dr. Eyebrows is the living epitome of the absent-minded professor who loves to bury himself in a pile of journal articles and a lab. He likes people, but more so under a microscope, y'know? Very very sweet...unfortunately not all the staff at his clinic are, but I work on ignoring the ones I don't like and paying attention to the ones I do like.
I'm digressing, anyway, this is the first time he has ever told me to take anything non-prescription. Beyond the general "be healthy" order, he thinks the vast majority of the all natural stuff is unproven, etc...so he doesn't like to guilt his patients if they don't become holistically pure. This is a real change for him to tell me to take this supplement. A 180. So what the heck?
At this point I'm throwing the spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks.
As for my friend...ehhhh, I'm already feeling some icky danger signals. She's backed off quickly, but when we discussed my HRT regime and my osteoporosis, and my thyroid stuff, in quick succession, she implied in words and tone that HRT is not good, osteopenia/osteoporosis doesn't exist, (it's a scam by drug companies according to her-she saw it on Oprah, must be true, just ignore the bone scan results...), ADD drugs are bad and addictive, and my thyroid issues might be solved by taking antidepressants. *eyeroll*
Except that she hasn't see me in a year and both my actual real shrinks agree I'm not depressed. I'm pissed off that I can't get a proper diagnosis or some respect from the Docs....and I'm grumpy about my husband quite often, but those are legitimate feelings. Depression is an inappropriate response to an event, not an appropriate one. But oops I forgot, women aren't allowed to be sad in our society, much less be sad over a *nothing* like a miscarriage right? I'll never forget one shrink years ago telling me that if anyone was still grieving over the death of a loved one, a husband, a child, whatever, after 2 weeks, it was wrong and I wasn't adjusting appropriately and therefore depressed.
So yeah, I have a feeling that this one will end up kind of arm's length....I care about her, but I want a friend, not a junior wanna be therapist who insists that everything I do is wrong and everything she does is right. I've been wrong lots, and I apologize all the time. She rarely admits to faults, and I'm beginning to remember this now. Catherine (and several others of you) might be right-I'm going to have to sit down and figure out what I get out of this relationship and what I don't, and whether it's worth maintaining.
Hmmmmm
Monday, June 18, 2007
Miracles Anyone?
June 16th, 4 years ago we discovered that I had had a miscarriage at 12 weeks. It's been a quiet weekend for me, remembering this. Here it is. This is Mira's story.
A few years after having Mac, I decided it was time for another baby...I had always wanted a big family, and thought, why not? Considering my history of trisomy 18 eggs at only 29, I thought waiting around was not such a great idea. I went off the pill, got my period, and waited....and waited...and waited some more.
And had a hot flash.
And another.
Maybe I was overheated? Pregnant already? Off to see Dr.J. She figured I just might be pregnant, or maybe my body needed a cycle or two to adjust after coming off the pill, no biggie, she ordered some blood tests, and told me she'd call. And she did.
I wasn't pregnant, and my estrogen was undetectable, and my FSH was a little high. Like 86. Not having a clue what that meant, I asked. She told me it could be premature ovarian failure, or a lab mistake. So she reordered the tests. I still hadn't had a period and felt quite bizarre, so I went along with it.
Now it was 66.
I googled high FSH. And my universe fell in.
Every medical website held out absolutely no hope and had horrible things like higher risk of mortality and morbidity, osteoporosis, premature aging, sexual dysfunction, and of course, incurable infertility.
All of it utter exaggerated bullshit I know now, but then, terrifying and depressing. I'd been on Wellbutrin in anticipation of trying again, since I had heard that it was safe as an ADD drug in pregnancy, and was going to go off stimulants for the duration. This btw, was utter bullshit as well. Stimulants are completely safe in pregnancy, and Wellbutrin is a big unknown, not an SSRI, but something else, and the only studies are very small. Stimulants have been studied for years and after much searching by Motherisk at my request, they cleared them at therapeutic doses.
But I didn't know that then, I just knew that specialist after specialist was telling me I would never get pregnant again. Two different clinics here in Toronto refused to give me appointments, right over the phone unless I agreed to donor egg ahead of time. Standard policy for anyone who has ever had an FSH over 10 in their lifetime. Not exactly ethical medical diagnosis, IMO, and certainly inappropriate to discuss a treatment plan like an ultimatum.
One Doctor agreed to give me HRT at one point, I was so desperate for relief, and I went on the pill for a month. At that point I had had ultrasounds and bone scans and been poked and prodded and referred to the nth degree. Dr.J. remeasured my E2 & FSH after that month on Day 3 of the next cycle, and shockingly enough, after 3 weeks on the pill, my FSH was 4, and my E2 was 36. I was floored....she told me not to take anymore of the pills, and just keep coming back for more blood tests. And I did....I had magically snapped back to normal for months and months afterwards. Periods a bit off, but still coming 27-30 days apart.
The REs kept saying that the new tests were meaningless, and it was impossible for me to concieve without donor egg, and still wouldn't give me appointments, but Dr.J. finally found someone willing to treat me, or at least see me for a consult.
The day of the appointment with the RE, it turns out, was in the middle of March Break. Mr.Cotta was away on business and I was taking the opportunity to paint half our house and do some major work.
I go in to meet the RE Dr. W. covered in paint splatters feeling foolish. She is not so good with the bedside manner, but I can live with that, right? When she learns that once again my period is late, she insists that right there we do a urine pregnancy test, I look at her and think, "What an idiot, how can she be so cruel? Doesn't she know I'm out of eggs?"
Lucky I didn't say it, because the stick turned blue after she dipped it! I proceeded to faint right there on the spot, just like in the movies. Dr.W. and the nurse ran to catch me, and helped me over to the lab to get an hcg beta blood test. All the while I'm crying and babbling like a fool, "I don't understand, they said never, they said never...how is this possible?" I mean for Christ's sake, if 5 expert docs at 3 different major hospitals tell you it is completely impossible to get pregnant with POF and Dr. Google finds you a support group that says you can, who are you going to believe? Yep, you guessed....
My beta that day, at what we guessed was 17-18DPO, was 1100. And it kept doubling...perfectly.
At first, I didn't tell my husband, mostly because I really didn't think it was true, and hey why get him excited over a malfunctioning pee stick? Finally, I broke the news. He freaked, since he wasn't sure if he even wanted to be around a pregnant crazy woman after enduring a crazy menopausal woman for months. He came around after the first ultrasound. Week after week we went in and saw the baby swimming around, waving, and sucking it's little thumb. At 11 weeks the final ultrasound and I'd graduated from fertility school! I made it through the first trimester and nothing could go wrong, right?
Wrong.
We went for our nuchal test the next week, and since we were going in to a hospital based genetics clinic for it, SARS had taken over, and so had the stupid people. SARS was only ever spread around by the first family that got it in China and travelled back to Canada with it, and medical personnel after that. Not one person without a hospital connection even got sick. So naturally, instead of blaming themselves for not putting on a mask and washing their own hands, doctors separated wives from husbands, children from parents, and acted like jerks.
Even though I was high risk, Mr.Cotta was only allowed in the clinic waiting room. I asked the technician if I could see the baby's heartbeat first, and then I would gladly lay still for hours if need be while she did the rest. She mumbled something and started scanning. I kept asking her what was going on, and she kept ignoring me, which only made me panic more. Eventually she got my husband but still wouldn't tell us what was going on.
She left to consult with the radiologist and came back to tell us that our baby had died and there was no heart beat. I wanted to see the screen because I didn't believe her. She was merely a technician, and of course the radiologist wouldn't come in to tell us to our face, even though he was legally required to. I guess he couldn't face a woman with a dead baby...
We met with our specialist for the day and arranged for a second ultrasound at my own hospital's clinic to confirm the baby's demise, because I wasn't going to have a D&C unless I saw the baby had no heartbeat with my own two eyes. When we arrived at that clinic, we discovered that we had to pay for a second ultrasound if it was held on the same day, which of course sent me into hysterics. And cash only, no credit cards or cheques, or even receipts. For Americans, it may be hard to understand why paying out-of-pocket mattered so much, but the criteria for OHIP coverage in Ontario is medical need. We weren't there for a video to show to our friends, we were there to get a second opinion on whether or not our baby was dead. Before doctors turn off life support on a coma victim, they need 2 different EEGS, and yet somehow, I'm expected to end my baby's life with a D&C even if the first technician might've been an incompetent twit?Not for my miracle baby!
Mr.Cotta ran to a bank machine and paid. The second radiologist was nasty and refused to let me see the screen until I insisted, and even then only for a second. I just kept thinking, lady, we just paid you cash...HELLO, you aren't in charge this time. There was still no heartbeat according to her, and she made it clear that she had gone over everything again, but I was so angry and upset at this point, I didn't know what else to do. I had to go home, even though I still didn't believe it.
The next day we made an appointment to see Dr.W. about a D&C and she scheduled me in the day after that. I woke up in agony, not quite what I had expected. I was bleeding so badly I was sent for another ultrasound. Unfortunately, I had somehow retained a piece of placenta again and had to get a second D&C a few days later. During this I was also on large amounts of antibiotics because of the fear of infection.
Then the descent into a special hell, a third D&C when my uterus filled up with blood clots and my abdomen began to swell. Afterwards, I briefly felt normal, but I still had more blood clots and serious bleeding. Another couple of rounds of Cytotec and I began to believe I was cursed. All the while, I'm in hideous physical pain, which doesn't help my mental state. I spent that summer lying on my couch taking painkillers, crying and wondering why my one shot at pregnancy had ended, so late, so long after all that all those great milestones. I later discovered that she was a perfect little girl, chromosomally normal. (And yes they tested her tissue not mine...)
Goodbye, Mira. Mama & Daddy loved you, no matter how briefly you existed, no matter how small you were, you were our daughter, and I'll miss you forever.
A few years after having Mac, I decided it was time for another baby...I had always wanted a big family, and thought, why not? Considering my history of trisomy 18 eggs at only 29, I thought waiting around was not such a great idea. I went off the pill, got my period, and waited....and waited...and waited some more.
And had a hot flash.
And another.
Maybe I was overheated? Pregnant already? Off to see Dr.J. She figured I just might be pregnant, or maybe my body needed a cycle or two to adjust after coming off the pill, no biggie, she ordered some blood tests, and told me she'd call. And she did.
I wasn't pregnant, and my estrogen was undetectable, and my FSH was a little high. Like 86. Not having a clue what that meant, I asked. She told me it could be premature ovarian failure, or a lab mistake. So she reordered the tests. I still hadn't had a period and felt quite bizarre, so I went along with it.
Now it was 66.
I googled high FSH. And my universe fell in.
Every medical website held out absolutely no hope and had horrible things like higher risk of mortality and morbidity, osteoporosis, premature aging, sexual dysfunction, and of course, incurable infertility.
All of it utter exaggerated bullshit I know now, but then, terrifying and depressing. I'd been on Wellbutrin in anticipation of trying again, since I had heard that it was safe as an ADD drug in pregnancy, and was going to go off stimulants for the duration. This btw, was utter bullshit as well. Stimulants are completely safe in pregnancy, and Wellbutrin is a big unknown, not an SSRI, but something else, and the only studies are very small. Stimulants have been studied for years and after much searching by Motherisk at my request, they cleared them at therapeutic doses.
But I didn't know that then, I just knew that specialist after specialist was telling me I would never get pregnant again. Two different clinics here in Toronto refused to give me appointments, right over the phone unless I agreed to donor egg ahead of time. Standard policy for anyone who has ever had an FSH over 10 in their lifetime. Not exactly ethical medical diagnosis, IMO, and certainly inappropriate to discuss a treatment plan like an ultimatum.
One Doctor agreed to give me HRT at one point, I was so desperate for relief, and I went on the pill for a month. At that point I had had ultrasounds and bone scans and been poked and prodded and referred to the nth degree. Dr.J. remeasured my E2 & FSH after that month on Day 3 of the next cycle, and shockingly enough, after 3 weeks on the pill, my FSH was 4, and my E2 was 36. I was floored....she told me not to take anymore of the pills, and just keep coming back for more blood tests. And I did....I had magically snapped back to normal for months and months afterwards. Periods a bit off, but still coming 27-30 days apart.
The REs kept saying that the new tests were meaningless, and it was impossible for me to concieve without donor egg, and still wouldn't give me appointments, but Dr.J. finally found someone willing to treat me, or at least see me for a consult.
The day of the appointment with the RE, it turns out, was in the middle of March Break. Mr.Cotta was away on business and I was taking the opportunity to paint half our house and do some major work.
I go in to meet the RE Dr. W. covered in paint splatters feeling foolish. She is not so good with the bedside manner, but I can live with that, right? When she learns that once again my period is late, she insists that right there we do a urine pregnancy test, I look at her and think, "What an idiot, how can she be so cruel? Doesn't she know I'm out of eggs?"
Lucky I didn't say it, because the stick turned blue after she dipped it! I proceeded to faint right there on the spot, just like in the movies. Dr.W. and the nurse ran to catch me, and helped me over to the lab to get an hcg beta blood test. All the while I'm crying and babbling like a fool, "I don't understand, they said never, they said never...how is this possible?" I mean for Christ's sake, if 5 expert docs at 3 different major hospitals tell you it is completely impossible to get pregnant with POF and Dr. Google finds you a support group that says you can, who are you going to believe? Yep, you guessed....
My beta that day, at what we guessed was 17-18DPO, was 1100. And it kept doubling...perfectly.
At first, I didn't tell my husband, mostly because I really didn't think it was true, and hey why get him excited over a malfunctioning pee stick? Finally, I broke the news. He freaked, since he wasn't sure if he even wanted to be around a pregnant crazy woman after enduring a crazy menopausal woman for months. He came around after the first ultrasound. Week after week we went in and saw the baby swimming around, waving, and sucking it's little thumb. At 11 weeks the final ultrasound and I'd graduated from fertility school! I made it through the first trimester and nothing could go wrong, right?
Wrong.
We went for our nuchal test the next week, and since we were going in to a hospital based genetics clinic for it, SARS had taken over, and so had the stupid people. SARS was only ever spread around by the first family that got it in China and travelled back to Canada with it, and medical personnel after that. Not one person without a hospital connection even got sick. So naturally, instead of blaming themselves for not putting on a mask and washing their own hands, doctors separated wives from husbands, children from parents, and acted like jerks.
Even though I was high risk, Mr.Cotta was only allowed in the clinic waiting room. I asked the technician if I could see the baby's heartbeat first, and then I would gladly lay still for hours if need be while she did the rest. She mumbled something and started scanning. I kept asking her what was going on, and she kept ignoring me, which only made me panic more. Eventually she got my husband but still wouldn't tell us what was going on.
She left to consult with the radiologist and came back to tell us that our baby had died and there was no heart beat. I wanted to see the screen because I didn't believe her. She was merely a technician, and of course the radiologist wouldn't come in to tell us to our face, even though he was legally required to. I guess he couldn't face a woman with a dead baby...
We met with our specialist for the day and arranged for a second ultrasound at my own hospital's clinic to confirm the baby's demise, because I wasn't going to have a D&C unless I saw the baby had no heartbeat with my own two eyes. When we arrived at that clinic, we discovered that we had to pay for a second ultrasound if it was held on the same day, which of course sent me into hysterics. And cash only, no credit cards or cheques, or even receipts. For Americans, it may be hard to understand why paying out-of-pocket mattered so much, but the criteria for OHIP coverage in Ontario is medical need. We weren't there for a video to show to our friends, we were there to get a second opinion on whether or not our baby was dead. Before doctors turn off life support on a coma victim, they need 2 different EEGS, and yet somehow, I'm expected to end my baby's life with a D&C even if the first technician might've been an incompetent twit?Not for my miracle baby!
Mr.Cotta ran to a bank machine and paid. The second radiologist was nasty and refused to let me see the screen until I insisted, and even then only for a second. I just kept thinking, lady, we just paid you cash...HELLO, you aren't in charge this time. There was still no heartbeat according to her, and she made it clear that she had gone over everything again, but I was so angry and upset at this point, I didn't know what else to do. I had to go home, even though I still didn't believe it.
The next day we made an appointment to see Dr.W. about a D&C and she scheduled me in the day after that. I woke up in agony, not quite what I had expected. I was bleeding so badly I was sent for another ultrasound. Unfortunately, I had somehow retained a piece of placenta again and had to get a second D&C a few days later. During this I was also on large amounts of antibiotics because of the fear of infection.
Then the descent into a special hell, a third D&C when my uterus filled up with blood clots and my abdomen began to swell. Afterwards, I briefly felt normal, but I still had more blood clots and serious bleeding. Another couple of rounds of Cytotec and I began to believe I was cursed. All the while, I'm in hideous physical pain, which doesn't help my mental state. I spent that summer lying on my couch taking painkillers, crying and wondering why my one shot at pregnancy had ended, so late, so long after all that all those great milestones. I later discovered that she was a perfect little girl, chromosomally normal. (And yes they tested her tissue not mine...)
Goodbye, Mira. Mama & Daddy loved you, no matter how briefly you existed, no matter how small you were, you were our daughter, and I'll miss you forever.
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