November 15, 2008

Did You Know It’s National Adoption Awareness Month?

Earlier this year my sister, Rachel, called me to talk about something important.  Her friend S had found out she was pregnant but she and the father were no longer together.  S and this guy already had one child together but their relationship was complicated to say the least.

Rachel wanted to know if Doug and I would consider adopting the baby.  I’ll be honest.  Before Rachel called me I had never considered adoption.  I really didn’t know how I felt about it.

One of my closest friends is adopted and for years I watched her struggle with not knowing who her biological parents were.  She wanted so desperately to know who she looked like and why her parents were unable to raise her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her adoptive parents, she does, it’s just that she often felt incomplete because there were so many unanswered questions about “where she came from.”  Eventually, she found her birth mother and they have established an amazing relationship.  Her birth father passed away several years ago, before she had the chance to meet him.  Amazingly she did discover that her biological father remarried and had another daughter.  My friend is so happy to have a sister.

After having Dawson and loving him so much it hurts, I can’t imagine the heartbreak a woman goes through when deciding to give up her child. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I wanted to consider adoption as a way to expand my family.

Struggling with infertility has taught me many valuable lessons.  I think knowing how difficult it is for me to conceive has made me realize that life doesn’t always happen the way we plan.  Sometimes our wishes don’t come true, at least not the way we want them to.  I know that sounds a little depressing, but what I mean is, maybe, our wishes come true in their own time.

A few months after my sister told me about her friend’s situation, a friend of my father’s called to ask if I’d like to work for her law office/title company part-time.  Since I’d lost my job a few months before, I agreed.  Turns out she practices family law and handles many adoptions.  It seemed like a funny coincidence, and I brushed aside the nagging idea that Doug and I should adopt a child.

Fast forward to a month ago when I attended a MOPs meeting.  One of my new friends and I were talking about children and she asked if I wanted to have any more.  She wasn’t aware of my fertility issues, so I confessed that Doug and I had been trying for another baby for quite a few months but weren’t having any luck.

“Have you considered adoption?” she asked.  “Both of my kids are adopted.  It’s the best decision I ever made.  Karl and I suffered with infertility for many long years.”

My friend and I commiserated about our reproductive challenges and kept thinking that God was trying to send me a message.  I mean, He was practically hitting me on the head with his “subtle” hints.

A few days ago I was doing some blog reading and I learned that November is National Adoption Awareness Month.

It’s just so coincidental.  All the signs.  I’m wondering if this is why I haven’t been able to get pregnant.  Maybe I have a higher purpose at this point in my life.  Maybe I’m supposed to adopt.

I’m still working through all the emotions and processing all the information I’ve acquired.   I’m not sure where to begin, or if adoption is right for Doug and me.  I just wanted to share my feelings with you and read your comments on the subject.  If you have an experience to share, please feel free to tell me about it.

November 8, 2008

PCOS: I’m Dealing With It

Last month, I tried to do a low-carb diet.  Not necessarily Atkins or South Beach, but I eliminated all starches (potato, pasta, bread), I nixed the sugary goodness of chocolate (and it nearly killed me) and I tried sticking to a diet of lean meats, cheeses and leafy green vegetables (and cucumbers) for two weeks.

Can I just tell you how awful my cravings were?  I cannot even describe the ridiculous dependency my body had has on carbohydrates.  Seriously, it got to the point where I had dreams of baked potatoes loaded with all the fixings.

You’re probably wondering what possessed me to begin such a diet and I’m more than happy to tell you why.

Almost ten years ago I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS), a metabolic (and endocrine) disorder that affects ovulation, weight loss/gain, hormonal fluctuations and causes my body to be desensitized to insulin.  When I first received this diagnosis, I thought it was some bullshit syndrome that doctors made up because they weren’t sure what was wrong with the women who experienced the symptoms now classified as part of this disease.

The fact that PCOS is a disease scared me, partly because if left untreated the condition can become life threatening.  Women with untreated PCOS can develop diabetes, heart disease, stroke, cervical and uterine cancers and other scary things.  Sadly, this disease is genetic and typically runs in families.  My mother and sister most likely suffer from PCOS, as they’ve experienced most, if not all, of the same symptoms I do.  They haven’t been diagnosed just yet, but I’m urging them to get to their doctors to have testing done.

I went to the library and got some books on this condition, along with books on nutrition and fertility because I wanted to be completely in-the-know about what was happening with my body.

I won’t lie.  My reasons were selfish at first.  I’ve made it known that I want to have another baby (Soon, damn it!  Soon!) but that I’m not having any luck in the getting pregnant department.  Part of the blame is because of PCOS.

My very amazing new doctor (whom I began seeing this past June) prescribed a medication typically given to patients diagnosed with Type II diabetes.  The medicine is called Metformin (known as the brand Glucophage).  Metformin is given to sensitize the body to insulin (which is what helps the diabetic patient), and this can help regulate hormones and cure some of the endocrine disorder.

I’ve been taking this stuff for a little over five months and while it’s regulating insulin production, it isn’t really doing all of it’s job.  Such as trigger ovulation.  I know this because I’ve been charting my basal body temperature for months.

Two weeks ago, I went in for a re-check and Dr. F upped the dose of my Rx to four pills a day instead of two.  It’s sort of wrecking havoc with my stomach (a symptom of taking the meds), but I’ve noticed some changes since the increase.

For one, my acne is slowly disappearing.  I am one of the unlucky women post-puberty that still gets the occasional zit (or twelve) around the chin area.  Acne is a symptom of PCOS.  So is hirsutism (excess hair growth on the face and other unwanted areas of the body — I know, that’s so general).  I noticed that I had some facial hair problems (mostly on the chin and neck), but now that I’ve been taking the Metformin, it seems to be fading away.

But the biggest change is that my menstrual cycles are shortening.  Pre-metformin, my cycles were 47 days plus.  Probably why it’s been so difficult to coneive.  Each month I’d lose a day or two.  I’m down to about 35-39 days depending on other stress factors.

Okay, I take that back.  The biggest change isn’t just that my periods are getting more “regular.”  I’ve lost 17 pounds, too.  Seventeen.  Dr. F was so elated when I weighed in.  My goal was to lose 10% of my weight in order to trigger ovulation again.  I have 10 more pounds to go.

People, this is progress.  And while, it’s still frustrating to know that I’m not getting pregnant yet, it’s comforting to know that by sticking to the plan and making small, subtle changes to my lifestyle, perhaps I’ll be pregnant by Christmas.  Or maybe Valentine’s Day.

I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I’m also trying not to give up.  It’s like I’m in a holding pattern.  Being sick with a cold the last twelve days hasn’t helped either.  When I’m sick, I have no ambition to eat healthy or exercise. Sad, but true.

The low-carb diet was much more difficult this time around. (I did it four years ago which is how I conceived Dawson.)  Instead, I’m counting calories, making healthier food choices and exercising 4-6 times a week.  I feel good about myself and I noticed I’m not as depressed as I used to be.

So, anyway…I’m just really happy with how things are going and I wanted to blog about it so that I can look back and see how far I’ve come.  There were devastating days, I know.  I lost my shit a time or two.  But like Scarlet O’Hara once said, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

I’m looking forward to my tomorrows.

————

P.S.

I don’t know many people who also struggle with PCOS, but I’m hoping that if you are dealing with this condition or know someone who is dealing with it, you’ll leave a comment on this post (please?).  I’d love to hear about your experiences.

If you think you may have PCOS and have not yet been diagnosed, please make an appointment with your doctor.  It’s very important for you to get treatment.  There is help for your condition.  And no, you’re not crazy.  No, these symptoms are not “in your head.”

I’m happy to talk more about PCOS, and to blog about it, too.  The more informed we are, the better we can manage our conditions.

October 16, 2008

It Happens Every Time (But This Day Is Different)

Before I continue with my planned post, I wanted to remind you that I’m over at The Imperfect Parent today. If you have a few moments, will you please visit me there, too?  Thank you, kindly!

The last few months have been miserable.  I’ve said it all before.  I don’t want to rehash all the emotions, but it’s constantly on my mind, this baby business.

Yesterday I stopped to count the months, the many long months, that my husband and I have been trying to conceive a second child.  Today marks the end of the eighteenth month of trying.  The end, because my period started this morning.

A few days ago, I thought for sure that I was pregnant.  I had all the “symptoms.”  Sore breasts, bloating, exhaustion, frequent urination, night sweats, nausea, headaches, stuffy nose, moodiness and irritability, heightened sense of smell, increased appetite.

However, I knew in my heart that it was just another phantom pregnancy, that I was just obsessing about it all and therefore my body was playing tricks on me.  Or it was all the beginning of monster PMS.

And still, I drove to the store and bought a pregnancy test.  I went so far as to say a prayer before peeing on the fucking thing, thinking a miracle could impact the results.  Even though I thought I was pregnant, I knew that yesterday’s HPT would turn out the way the last seventeen did.

Just like every month before, the negative line appears and 24 hours later my period begins.  It happens every time.

Then the devastation and disappointment set in.  The crying ensues.  The frustration and anger sweep in and take over.  The bitter jealousy follows closely behind.  The vicious cycle continues and I’m helpless to stop it.

I want more children so badly that it’s all I can think about, dream about, hope for.

I’ve been in a funk and it’s beginning to evolve into a depression.  I accused my husband of jinxing us because maybe he doesn’t want this as much as I do.  I’ve blamed myself for being reproductively broken.  I’ve even looked in the mirror and berated myself for being a failure.

I didn’t go to church last Sunday because I didn’t want to stare at all the adorable pregnant women and wonder why God has granted their wishes and not mine.

Instead, I read passages in the Bible and tried to swallow this jagged little pill.  I’ve tried to put these thoughts out of my head.  I’ve avoided speaking about it with my friends and family because I don’t think they understand, nor do I think they want to hear about my “problem” anymore.

Then today, something wonderful happened.  I attended my bimonthly MOPS meeting.

I must confess that I didn’t want to go.  At my first meeting two weeks ago, I struggled.  There were many mothers in the group who were expecting, and others who were nursing their babies during the focus groups.  It was hard to think happy thoughts and not be overcome by grief and jealousy, but I managed.

Knowing the wound would be opened again, I told myself last night that I wasn’t going.  I didn’t have faith that I could deal with my issues.  Then I dropped Dawson off at preschool this morning and one of the other MOPS moms has a child in Dawson’s class.

“On your way to the meeting?” she asked.

“Ummm…I dunno.  I’ve got a lot of work to do at home…”

“Come on,” she cut me off.  “You don’t want to miss today’s speaker.  She’s inspirational.”

Even though I told myself it would take more than some inspirational woman sharing her life story to shake me out of my depression, I agreed to attend.  I prayed silently in the car for God to grant me the strength to stifle whatever emotions decided to flow out of me upon seeing all the babies.

The meeting started and our speaker, Jessica, was introduced to our group.  Jessica told us she had been a featured speaker at many women’s groups and her message that day was about how to find hope when things don’t go our way.

I admit, I was skeptical.  It was oh so coincidental that things in my life were definitely not going my way.  How did Jessica think she was going to help me, I wondered.  Does she even know anything about me?  Does she know that I’m struggling?  Does she know about my history with PCOS?  Does she know it took three years to conceive Dawson, or that I had a miscarriage when Dawson was 11 months old?  Does she know that I’m losing faith that I’ll ever get pregnant again?

My bitterness was swallowing me whole, but no sooner than these thoughts flowed from my consciousness did I realize how wrong I was about Jessica.

She told us about her marriage to her husband, Gary, and how they celebrated their 27th wedding anniversary.  She told us that after she and Gary were married they had a honeymoon baby, a boy, and a daughter 18 months after that.  She always knew she wanted more than two children, but after her daughter was born she had many miscarriages.

One day she was driving home from picking her children up from school on a terrible winter’s day.  It had rained and the rain froze, then it snowed on top of that.  She hit a patch of ice and her car swerved into oncoming traffic.  She hit a semi head on.  Her son, her oldest child, was killed instantly.  She and her daughter suffered several injuries.  Her son was 7 years old.  Her daughter was 5 1/2.

Hearing Jessica’s words, I began to cry.  As tears streamed down my cheeks, Jessica continued.   She talked about how painful it was to lose her son, but she also told us she was 10 weeks pregnant during the accident but no one else knew but her husband.  After all the miscarriages she was afraid to tell anyone about the pregnancy because she figured she’d lose that baby, too.  Especially after the tragic accident resulting in her son’s death.

Jessica talked about how her daughter went from being the youngest child, to an only child and then to the oldest child all in a year’s time.  She never expected to have a seven year age gap between her daughter and the baby boy she had seven months after the car accident.  She went on to have three more children after that.

I began sobbing.   Sobbing because I realized I was meant to be at this meeting.  God wanted me to hear Jessica speak.  He enlisted the help of my friend to make sure I heard what Jessica had to say.

Jessica told us that she learned to rearrange her priorities after the accident.  She began renewing her faith in God and putting Him first in her life, before her husband and children.  She realized that while she loved Gary and their children so very much, without God she may never have been able to have more children.

In that moment, alarms went off in my head.  I realized that I’ve been dwelling on this baby thing for too long.  I’ve lost my faith in God and His plans for me.  I’ve been putting my husband and son and everything else in my life before God.

Even though I attend church and teach CCD and pray, I really wasn’t listening to God.  I wasn’t hearing His words and understanding His plan.  And He does have a plan.  He had a plan for Jessica, and she was smart enough to trust and follow Him.

After Jessica’s talk was over, I felt at peace.  All my harried thoughts disappeared.  Instead of worrying about my biological clock ticking, instead of thinking I have to get pregnant right now because I don’t want my children to be too far apart, my mind was quiet.  And my heart was open.

I realize this might sound crazy, but I honestly believe that God has intervened.  He’s trying to tell me that He’s listening.  He’s watching.  He has given me respite from all the worry and disappointment.

For the first time in so long, I feel at peace, and I’m so grateful.

October 7, 2008

I Give Up

Can’t do it.  Anymore.  Too painful.

Every month, I pee on ovulation predictor kits (OPKs).  I get the signal that ovulation is near.  Every month we “plan” baby making around those days.  Every month, period is not on time, I get that hopeful feeling.  Every month I pee on a home pregnancy test (HPT) and get that big fat negative (BFN).  Every month, I cry.

Every day I feel angry.  Angry because I know every acronym and abbreviation and all the vocabulary used in the world of infertility.

Every day I do what the doctor tells me.  I take the Metformin.  I eat healthy foods.  I don’t smoke.  I don’t drink.  I exercise.

Every week, I listen to someone tell me to “just relax.”  Every week I hear someone say, “It will happen, don’t fret.”

Every day I read a blog or twenty, about pregnancy and babies.  Every other day I read a new announcement of another blogger’s pregnancy or delivery of another blogger’s sweet baby.

Every day I try not to let it affect me, because it’s not about me, it’s not personal.

Every day, I feel resentment and jealousy.  Every day, I feel guilty for feeling the way I do.

Every night, I dream of babies and pregnancy and holding another child in my arms.

Every night, I cry just a little.

And every day and night, I pray.

But I can’t do it anymore.  Won’t do it anymore.  It hurts too much.

Every month I say that I’ll give up and I never do.  It’s a vicious cycle.

I won’t do this to myself any longer.  It hurts too much.