Day One.

A new cycle, a new hope. A lot of confusion.

I started the South Beach diet yesterday, as recommended in the book "Healing Syndrome O", in hopes of kicking any insulin resistance to the curb since my doctor won't prescribe metformin. I have to admit, I'm positively miserable. I have no energy for my runs, I'm hungry all the time, and I really just want a bowl of oatmeal or a piece of bread, or popcorn, or something!!!

I'm hoping this is just menstrual apathy, but I can't seem to find any energy or motivation to get off my ass for anything.

Two more days until I start taking the Clomid again, at double the dosage.

to be in good cheer

I am happy today. Giddy, cheerful, full of hope and silliness.

Where did that come from????

:)

Its not very unusual for me to feel happy and cheerful. I'm generally a happy go lucky girl. But this extremity of good cheer, this is different, and its very welcome. It snuck in suddenly in the night and took over. Which makes me realize even more than ever that these bouts of hormone-induced depression are fleeting, temporary, and that I should pay them no more mind than a stranger giving me the finger on the morning commute.

Alpharetta 10k report

Ran a small local 10k this morning. Not very fast, averaged 11 minute miles, but it was fun. It was raining and dark at the start and raining and a little bit brighter at the finish. But it was my first race in a really long time, and I enjoyed it. I'm definitely getting used to running on tired legs though.

Perspective

Okay, so now I at least know what's wrong with me. That is a step in the right direction. The doc has doubled the dosage on my Clomid, so hopefully that will help provoke my cysty little ovaries into giving up the goods.

If it doesn't, I'm going to ask him to refer me to a reproductive endocrinologist who specializes in PCOS.

I'm going to call him on monday and see if he would give me metformin or glucophage to address the insulin resistence. I mean, if we're going to load my body up with drugs, let's do this, y'know?

Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome

I have Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. Which means that there are cysts all through my ovaries which are preventing me from ovulating. They can't be removed. The only thing that can be done is more hormones in the hopes of getting me to ovulate.

Fuck.

appt. with Doc B.

Had an appointment with Doctor B. today.

He listened to what I had to say, and suggested a higher dose of Clomid for the next go round. He also drew blood and plans to test my FSH and LH levels, my beta HCG levels (just in case I'm actually pregnant and this infertility business is a product of my overactive imagination), and my thyroid levels.

But I had to tell him to test my thyroid. and he acted like we hadn't JUST talked about it a month ago.

We'll see.

rainy half day

I'm only working a half day today. I am meeting with Dr. B to discuss next steps in my treatment. Then I'm going to run three miles in the rain. Or on the treadmill. I haven't decided which yet. Ah, the joys of marathon training: deciding which is worse, running in the rain or running inside.

On a totally unrelated note, my boobages are huge this morning. I hope this is a sign that my period will start naturally and that I won't have to go the provera route again. I don't want to take any more hormones than I need to!

saddle.sore

So, yesterday I went for a 26 mile bike ride.

I've never ridden my bike outside of a parking lot before, so this was an all-new experience for me. I put on my cushiest padded-est shorts, some nice thick cycling tights, and hit the SCT!

Well, even the cushiest padded-est shorts didn't prevent saddle sores. :(

And my male riding partners couldn't understand why I was in so much pain when peeing until I explained that the way female plumbing works, the saddle sores actually happen on the inside and that there is no way to avoid hitting them with the stream. Men, coming as they do with a built-in spray gun, don't have that problem.

but I feel pretty great about my ride--I still need to work on my dismount, but my bicycle handling skills have definitely improved. wheee!

Two left feet

So I had to bag my run last night because in my haste to get ready for work I packed, yes, you guessed it, two left shoes. So today I need to redeem myself.

I also need to call Dr. B and schedule an appointment to have some tests done, since the Clomid didn't work.

more to come.

I feel great this morning!

Slept like a baby after my run last night. I feel fantastic. I have another 3 miler planned for today, I plan on running the same course. Its very convenient, especially since its a loop.

My legs feel great this morning--stiff, like marathon legs. :D

Run Report 10/10/06

3 miles. Took me right around a half hour (I couldn't figure out how to work my new stopwatch), so I'm guesstimating. I ran through Dunwoody, did a little fantasy house-shopping. It was really nice. Kind of hilly, but only three really killer hills, and even those were pretty short. It was a nice run. :)

Day one of marathon training!

Woo-hoo!

I have a 3 miler planned after work today. I'm almost giddy with excitement. I'm really looking forward to having a goal, getting back in shape, and running regularly again. I'll report back tonight. :)

Something to take my mind off it...

I just registered for the Mercedes Marathon in Birmingham, AL.

Its 18 weeks away. I have to start training tomorrow. This should keep me busy for awhile. :D

http://www.mercedesmarathon.com/marathon.htm

itchy, twitchy eyeballs

I think I have a migraine coming. My eyeballs hurt, and the light is bothering them and I feel slightly nauseous. Ugh. So not a good way to start the day.

I am drinking coke in an effort to make it go away, hoping the caffeine and sugar will make a difference. I shouldn't be drinking coke, but I don't really care at this point.

I think I'm done TTC until after the holidays. I don't want my holidays to be wracked with anxiety and disappointment. I need to talk to my doctor about whether he thinks I should continue to take the Clomid or wait until January. Now that I have made this decision, I feel okay about it. Maybe this is the first step in letting go.

Good Morning, fat ass.

Yeah, so about exercise.

Exercise has always been something I did--walking, running, working out at the gym, yoga, etc. Always, my whole life, I have been active.

Until I moved to Atlanta. Where I have sat on my ever-spreading ass for the last five months. Oh, I've gone for a few runs. I've ridden my bicycle a couple of times, and I've lifted some weights and done some yoga. But I haven't done any of it on a regular basis and it shows.

My big wake-up call was going back to work. I haven't bought any scrubs yet, so I've been wearing business attire. And none of my clothes fit. Since I spent five months sitting on my ass in yoga pants, sweats, and my uber-comfy palazzos, I didn't really notice that I was getting bigger. Not just a lack of definition that would snap right back once I got back on track, but an honestly, I can't button these pants unless I hold my breath and pinch kind of bigger.

I kept telling myself they shrank in the wash, but I can't deny it anymore. I'm getting chubby. I need to work out more.

playing in photoshop

comfort
Originally uploaded by Aimee Benson.

So, this photo was supposed to be a sort of illustration for the blog, but it didn't turn out quite the way I wanted it to. Actually, it didn't turn out at all the way I wanted it to. In fact, its a little pervy. Oh well.

it's been a dark few days

Part of why I started this blog was to work through some of the isolation I have felt in recent months. However, it goes beyond that. Infertility is isolation not only from other people, but from one's own thoughts and feelings. It's a sort of forced denial, squeezing oneself into a costume that doesn't quite fit. The sad clown stereotype.

I had a breakdown this week. Or a breakthrough. I don't know quite which to call it. Shortly after my last post here, I had one of those days (it was starting around the time I posted) where I swung into a deep despair. I cried myself to sleep, lamenting to Mark that I was TIRED of having my life run by this want. I wanted my life back the way it was before I worried about my mucus or how dark the stripe would get on an OPK. But I can't let go.

One thing that threw me over the edge was a woman who called my office to schedule an appointment to speak with the doc about fertility medications. She described to me how she hadn't been ovulating, how she was using the OPKs, and how she wanted to talk to the doctor about starting a medication called clomid. Then she said "Please write that down, the drug is spelled C-L-O-M-I-D."

Yeah, thanks for the tip lady. And yet, even my irrational anger towards her is a sign of how this experience is altering my personality. While I am a little self-absorbed, it isn't much like me to be without any kindness for a suffering person. And here I was, angry at this woman for not knowing that I was dealing with the same experience, for not being able to explain that I knew how she felt. I was angry at her for feeling the same way I feel.

It's all so fucked up, this. The feeling of shame that washes over me when I see a pregnant woman. The self-loathing I feel when I look at someone else's beautiful baby. This frustration with other infertile women.

And yet, I love babies, and I am truly happy for my friends who are pregnant, and for the random pregnant strangers I see. It's myself with whom I am angry and of whom I am ashamed.

As quickly as these feelings came, they have gone, leaving me perhaps a little wasted and fatigued, as after a long illness. If anything, this has brought Mark and me closer together, as he has seen the way the experience has ravaged me, something I don't think he understood before. His strength, his hopefulness, they have brought my own strength and hope back.

I also want to recognize that these strong and volatile emotions may very well be a result of the Clomid. While I did not experience any side effects while I was taking it, my body is still responding to the hormonal changes. Clomid works on the estrogen receptors in the brain (as well as all throughout the body), and not much is known about how this effects mood.

And so this experiment continues.

Sometimes, I fear it won't work.

I might truly be infertile. And that modern medicine won't fix me.

Today is a bad day. I didn't sleep last night, I'm tired, I have to go to work, and I have to pretend that I'm not worried about the fact that its CD12 and I don't have good mucus or very much in the way of LH in my system. It certainly doesn't LOOK like I'm about to ovulate, though the doctor said I should ovulate about a week after my last clomid dose.

There is such a stigma on infertility. I've been asked several times in the last few days whether I have any children, and there is no way for me to answer that question without hurting. I pretend that I am childless by choice, otherwise I will have confessed to my new employers that I am trying to get pregnant. Not only is this pretense utterly foreign to me--I am not easily given to deceit, but it is required in order to protect myself from the "infertility" stigma. This society-imposed silence means that the only people I can really discuss this with are either other infertile women (who are often more despondent than I) or the few friends in whom I have confided about my fertility issues.

Its frustrating, this.

And I'm hoping my moodiness is just a sign that ovulation is around the corner.