Momlissa’s Weblog

Infertility, pregnancy and motherhood with a sense of humor (because crying isn’t an option!)

I need professional help February 14, 2008

After scaring the crap out of myself by going on the net and turning into a webochondriac, I decided to seek professional help.

Over the last year or so, I had complained to my primary care doctor about having problems conceiving, or my Infertile Myrtle Disorder* (*not an actual disorder to anyone except me).  At my age I had to have been actively trying to get pregnant before fertility issues would be brought up.  I’m an impatient person, so a year seemed like forever to me (I think it seems like forever to any woman who desperately wants to have a baby).

The advice the doc gave me over that year was to relax and “just let things happen.”  After a pregnancy-free year I got a referral to my OB-GYN.

At my appointment I was given the obligatory pelvic exam.  Nothing seemed obviously wrong to the doc, such as a missing uterus or something, so she started to question me on my history.  Other than that my period was very irregular and that some months when I would use fertility test kits I would never get a positive result, there was nothing that jumped out to the doctor.

It was decided that I should take a common fertility drug called Clomid for three months or until I conceived, whichever came first.  I left the OB’s office feeling confused and sad, which is a bit worse than I usually feel when leaving the gyno, but not much.

Once I got home and talked things over with my husband, we decided that if we were going to be taking such active steps towards becoming pregnant, that we wanted a specialist to review everything.  I got a referral for an endocrinologist in my area and made an appointment for six weeks later at which time the fun REALLY began.

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Getting bitter February 13, 2008

I became obsessed with searching the net for what was wrong with me.  I went onto postings that were filled with other desperate, pathetic women that I totally related to.  The standard posting of a woman who was trying to conceive or TTC as the posters cutely coined it went a little something like this:

BABYHOPE2000:  Hi girls!  Hubby and I have been TTC for one year now.  I just took my fourth pregnancy test and failed it but I really feel pregnant!  My period is four hours late and I am SO regular.  Also, I was nauseas while drinking my Bloody Mary yesterday morning and I’ve been really bitchy lately.  I’ve had crazy headaches and been completely zonked.  Do you think all the pregnancy tests could be wrong?  Thanks for any responses you send and a good sprinkling of Baby Dust to all!

 The responses would vary from “you go girl, I’m sure you’re pregnant, I have the same thing going on” to “you are a friggin’ moron.”

Around this time, friends would joyfully announce that they were pregnant.  It was especially painful when the expectant parents would laugh and say that they weren’t even trying and then “whoops!  what a happy accident.”  I had to swallow my angry, bitter response and offer my congratulations. 

After all, it wasn’t their fault that my womb was a dried up, barren desert.  It was time to get help.

 

Putting out

So we decided to have a baby.  I went off the pill and figured I would instantly get knocked up.  What happened was my period was longer, irregular and painful.  Close to a year went by and I was still babyless.  I decided I needed to do some research.  I went online and made some shocking discoveries.

One – you can only get pregnant two days a month.  All those horror stories I was told in high school were complete crap.  I found out that you had to chart your cycle and count twelve days back from the day you expected your next period.  That day was the day you were most likely to get pregnant.  So I’d been putting out all month, when really I only had to give it up one night.  I was a bit miffed.

Two – you are supposed to take your basal body temperature.  All you have to do is take your temp with a thermometer that reads your temp very precisely first thing in the morning before you move.  You keep track of your temp on a chart and when it spikes, you’re ovulating.  I don’t know if I’m just a freak, but when I open my eyes in the morning, the only thing on my mind is peeing and coffee.  Needless to say, I usually forgot about charting my temperature until I was two cups of coffee deep.

Three – you are advised to check your vaginal mucus.  I read that sentence and quickly skipped the paragraph.  I don’t want to know my body that well.

I decided to get serious.  Although I wasn’t willing to to keep track of my vagina’s mucus situation, there were other steps I could take.  I bought fertility tests (you pee on test strips and you get a positive when you’re ovulating) and jumped my hubby on my fertile days (and only my fertile days….he’d gotten enough free action). 

I fell into a depressing routine over the next six months.  Week one would be my period.  Week two would be spent gearing up to concieve.  I would test positive for ovulation and have sex imagining my husband’s sperm jetting into my egg (sex wasn’t about enjoyment for me anymore…it was a mission).  Weeks three and four would be spent with me feeling every symptom of pregnancy.  I would get sore breasts, nausea, exhaustion, food cravings and other random symptoms that I would then research for hours on the internet.  I would shop for baby furniture and maternity clothes, positive I was pregnant.  Then I would get my period and lock myself in my room and ball my eyes out, completely crushed. 

I felt like damaged goods.  I was barren.