Posts Tagged ‘ ttc1 ’

CD1: At Last I Know

So, good news: today I started my period and rang up the fertility nurse to see if they have an opening for treatment – the hospital are limited to only a certain number of IUI patients. I think it’s to do with the lab being able to process the male samples and then the insemination part, because ultra sounding a woman’s bits three times a week is hardly a severe limiting factor. I know that there’s more than just IUI going on, but still the thought that they can only take 3 couples (a week, I assume) had worried me.

But I rang, and they gave me the green light. So, now I have to take my first ever clomid tablet tomorrow and get to have an ultrasound and lesson on injecting myself on Cycle Day 4.

I can’t quite believe how excited I am, or how nervous I was waiting for the nurse to call me back and confirm that we could start this month. And I know nothing about the side effects of the meds, which might sound silly, but I’m the type that gets the symptoms they expect purely because they read they can. I’d rather just see what the side effects are. I did read the documentation that came with the tablets though, because I like to know what can be considered severe side effects. The one I’m most worried about is the insomnia listed on the information that clomid can cause. I already have problems sleeping (which my husband’s cold isn’t helping with, neither is the inability to take any sleep aids as I’m TTC) and really don’t want extra ones. There is a lot of TV stored on my Tivo just in case!

I’m crossing my fingers that the tablets don’t do anything, because until day 4 when I get my first injection, I’ll still be suffering with period pains; really don’t want both! I’m also trying my hardest to fight the stomach cramps I’m currently getting which has the ease of hope that they truly could be the last ones for months. These drugs could work. On the plus side, as I’ve said before, since we knew we were getting treatment and the pressure eased, the period symptoms have eased. Today has seen neither emotional breakdown nor crying in pain. I have been extremely tired and the stomach cramps are hurting quite a bit now. Ooh, and I’ve been hungry!

It’s entirely far too premature (I am fully aware of this and am trying to not go over board), but I did a quick look see to find out when a baby would be due if today is the first day of my last period. In easier terms, if this treatment works then in 280 days, the baby would be due. Of course being able to date the conception as accurately as IUI can, it’s 266 from conception, but I can calculate that when I get inseminated. And then refrain from getting too excited and thinking too far ahead. Doubt I’ll be able to stay level headed and calm though. It’ll be a tough two weeks.

But then the two weeks before that will be tough when I add extra hormones into my system. I’m kinda scared.

The new chapter of my life starts today and it doesn’t feel quite real yet. The cramps do though; I’m off to find a heat pad.

Night,
~ Persephone M

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I, Me, We?

I said in an earlier post about how I was using the term I despite referring to how it is my husband and I trying (and failing) to conceive. At the time I explained it as it’s because I’m the one writing.

That’s not quite the case.

Upon deeper reflection I’ve uncovered my true reasons for why I say I. Because it is me. Yes, we can’t seem to conceive, but I see that as my fault. Yes, we are being tested emotionally and perhaps physically, but it’s me who actually has the medical tests. It’s me that actually suffers with the hormones (although he does suffer from my subsequent moods).

I’m by no means belittling him in all of this, but my husband’s one of those men that rarely talks. And I don’t just mean about feelings, it’s opening his mouth to do anything but breathe. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child so used to amuse myself by talking to myself a lot. I love to talk. I found a perfect partner who hates talking. Because of this, he doesn’t talk about what we as a couple are going through. He doesn’t need to.

My stomach still feels a bit tender from the laparoscopy almost two weeks ago, but the only real problem is that I can’t sleep how I like to. Neither can my husband. He’s scared to throw his arm around me in the night and land on my poor belly button. I’ve felt a severe lack of closeness with him and I know he’s felt it, too. He doesn’t need to tell me.

I know he misses cuddling me at the moment. I know he hates “day one” just as much as I do (and not just because I take it all out on him). I know he worries that it’s all his fault. I know he hates that it’s me that had those tests, the pain and the fear of the hospital, and that he would do anything to have been able to do it all for me.

I consider that I fail every month, just as I passed the tests. Yes, it’s we as a couple that fail to manage to conceive, but it’s me. It is I. Maybe it is as simple as this blog is mine and that I am the storyteller of the journey. Or that I do see it as my fault, my pain and what happens to me. I am strongly in the belief that my husband could have children with anyone; it’s me that is the problem. He thinks the opposite.

In reality, who knows?

So until anything becomes clearer, blogs linked to my/we/our attempts at trying to conceive shall remain muddled with the pronouns.

~ Persephone M

I Love Science

I’m not too sure when I fell in love with it, possibly somewhere in year 9 (age 13/14). At least I can remember my project book that I made all about the female reproductive system and it seems that since then, I had a fascination.

Some people consider the biological sciences to be the easier ones or far less interesting than the likes of chemistry or physics. I find it odd when people don’t love biology. But not all of that stupid plant rubbish. Even animal biology is only okay when it’s in a comparative way to humans (oh, the second year uni topic about chicken eggs and diving mammals!). I’m not sure why I never studied simple plain human physiology rather than the sister subject Biomedical Science. It would only really have meant a different third year at uni and I could have lost all of those pesky biochemistry modules.

Unfortunately, I was still convinced that I enjoyed biochemistry and even chemistry. But, no, my love of science is purely for the human physiology.

Why?

As I said, it was in year 9 when I did a project on the human female reproductive system and for some reason it all stuck with me. It’s why I now find it odd when I read others’ blogs with regards to trying to conceive, or when doctors explain everything to me in the simplest of terms. I simply think: how can someone not know their cycle?

After a few months of trying and getting nowhere, I didn’t jump online to learn how to time things, how to recognise the signs or learn about my body in greater detail. I was lucky to already know that information and simply had to pull it out of my mind. I think it’s why I get so frustrated and sink when day one comes back around. There is literally no more that I can do.

At the first appointment with the doctor, where he went over the procedures I can have to see if there’s anything wrong, his explanations of my body where met with nods from me, as I thought “I know this”. My husband, on the other hand, found it amazing and learnt what I’d been trying to tell him for months.

Even so, despite me understanding the hormones and recognising the dips and peaks, the withdrawal and the elation, I had never ever monitored my daily temperature. The thing I love about the female reproductive system is that, you can feel science happening. When you have that completely weepy, crash day, well that’s where your hormone levels have vanished with a click of the fingers and you’re almost in withdrawal from it. It’s the same with respiration or the circulatory system, you can feel the science. You can become your own test subject.

Just run a mile and your heart’s beating faster? That’s science.

Just recorded a drop in your basal temperature? That’s science.

This month, I started recording my morning temperatures. I haven’t been super regular about it, so I know I can’t depend on the results. As with any science experiment, the results need reproducing and then analysing. So when my temperature dropped the other day, near to the end of my cycle, I knew that I was going to have a period. Less than 24 hours later and my hypothesis was correct.

Did I breakdown? Did I feel like a failure?

No, I was prepared for it. When I recorded the drop, I knew there was a chance that it wasn’t reliable. I’d been awake on and off, my husband had already got up with a stomach bug (which I still seem to have avoided!), so there were enough variables that the reading wasn’t taken in the same circumstances as the others. However, I didn’t pin all my hopes on those few variables, on that slim chance. And with no other signs of either possibility, I remained calm.

If the next month provides good data then I can start depending on science, not hope to give me answers. It won’t affect my ability to conceive (I’ve always known where day 14 is), but it might help my ability to cope.

The only small problem is, I’ve always used science to explain my complete and utter breakdown once a month – of course I can’t control these tears, dear, it’s the hormones! Science says that my hormones have dropped (otherwise why the temperature drop?) and yet there is no breakdown. Perhaps it was never the hormones. Maybe, all along, it was my dependence on hope and putting my faith into it. Maybe, all along, it was my not knowing. Normally, I would not know it was day one until it hit me in the face. This time I was prepared.

And who can argue with science?

~ Persephone M

Tears and Tantrums

I haven’t posted since Friday! Possibly because I’ve spent the past few days in the middle of a lot of tears and quite a few tantrums.

In fact at this very minute there is one four year foster child screaming from the hallway. I’m going to assume it’s because they want their dinner, well my mum’s cooking it. Or it’s because the eldest only wants to play with the youngest’s toys. Well, they do have their own. Or it’s simply because they want to!

The fosters returned on Saturday from my mum having a week’s respite and things seemed okay. The three year old was, and still is, very quiet and far more cuddly than normal. But before the end of the day they had returned to at least the odd temper tantrum.

Meanwhile, I spent Saturday pretty much crying hysterically. Including at work. In the middle of a corridor with everyone walking past. My few days with no emotions soon altered when the floodgates opened. The entire evening consisted of me crying. And crying.

With an argument inserted with my husband. And then more crying.

Saturday I seemed to be doing fine, until the fosters returned and then it was their tears!

The three year old cried when the older sibling declared that this wasn’t their home. It took reassurement from me, my husband and my mum before the 3 year old calmed.

Then there were the tears over wanting to eat a biscuit in the living room. And all the tears when we took the youngest shopping and they wanted to go home and watch tele. They both seemed to lose all grasp of time with regards to later and the youngest especially seemed as if later meant never.

But then after a few days in respite and asking for my mum, they were probably told later and seven days later that became never to them.

Two days into the normal school/nursery routine and the fosters seem fine. Despite my lack of emotions, after they hit me full whack I seemed to be down and emotional for far longer than normal. I think that’s why I haven’t had the inclination to post anything on here. It should have been easy – post a photo. I even had a photo challenge that I’d wanted to post.

I just couldn’t be bothered.

Friday and Saturday I couldn’t even be bothered to turn on my laptop. Although Sunday I got lots of writing done which rolled over onto yesterday, too. And so I neglected this blog and I won’t even attempt to blame writing, the fosters or social life. Nope, it was simply my hormones making me incredibly lethargic, dejected and downright beaten.

I’m not sure that my hysteria was helped when I had to walk into a room where someone was teaching ovulation to a class, highlighting over and over how long a woman is fertile for and when they’re fertile. Yes, okay, I get it! I don’t need it rubbing in. Or when I turned on the TV to a random One Tree Hill episode where a woman told she’d never have children, reveals she’s pregnant. Or the episode of How I Met Your Mother that was then on the next day where, after trying, a couple gets pregnant. Really don’t need it rubbing in!

I’m perking back up, becoming the normal me, and I’m accompanied by the usual chants in my head of: stay calm this month.

Yeah, okay then.

~ Persephone x

Emotionally Dead Today

Quite surprisingly this is not going to be as negative a post as it usually, normally, could be. You see, I failed again this month. Except I didn’t break down and don’t actually feel like a failure.

Normally, as has been becoming the norm, the moment I get a hint of starting my period I have a huge giant emotional breakdown. I sometimes worry that I’m crazy. Hormones are weird and wonderful things, and for that day or two, my hormones completely rule me.

There’s scientific evidence pointing to just after ovulation when, I think it’s oestrogen, drops quite suddenly there can be an almost withdrawal like feeling in the woman. I’m not trying to say that everything a woman does can be blamed on hormones, but sometimes they do play a significant effect.

This month, it didn’t happen. I didn’t fall apart. I didn’t become a huge red ball of tears and sobs.

I got a bit angry. I was certainly disappointed, but I wasn’t distraught. Am I learning to cope with it? Have I given up? Maybe it was just because it’s been so busy recently that I didn’t have the time or energy to break down.

I don’t want to get used to being unsuccessful. I don’t want to resign myself to a fate that I don’t want. I don’t want to stop caring, to develop some hardened shell where these things don’t affect me anymore. I’m still not sure if it was a good or bad thing that on the same day where normally I would become a hysterical mess, I was with friends and all of their young children. How could I have been around children, on the worst day of the month and not shed a tear?

Possibly more frustrating is the fact that I know for definite that I did everything right and at the right times this month, yet still nothing.

New Year, new tests!

~ Persephone M

Grab A Glass – Poem

Grab a glass,
Before the class,
Pop the pill,
Stop the ill,
It will soon soothe,
Hastily remove,
Act swift,
Mood lift,
Ease the pain,
Smile the gain,
It will soon pass,
Into the glass.
It hasn’t worked,
It shouldn’t fail,
I can’t cope with this,
It won’t ever stop,
He’d hate this day,
They’ve no idea,
I’d hoped so much,
This isn’t right,
It isn’t normal,
There’s no way out now,
I’ve got to the end,
It’s time, let’s give up.

© PersephoneM 24th November 2011