tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59124311161717341902024-03-13T01:04:26.978-07:00Inconceptionknoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-34597222985081185172013-09-25T04:50:00.000-07:002013-09-25T04:50:25.183-07:00taking my life back - one zombie infested mile at a time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2z7DdYHvZ6TDZesNIfsv5Lk4X12Zur5RG0oMl9_jQ0LBSnvZ5PqHj8wl_PuCJpYOMM0utoJKj5KrStF5Fabog6nvFBrgrgw-NY_RAZMJCB-LEUsZUOBfV2oNNzQkiQb6mASlfNcXwCg/s1600/tumblr_l9dgqa1Fbt1qdui8oo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2z7DdYHvZ6TDZesNIfsv5Lk4X12Zur5RG0oMl9_jQ0LBSnvZ5PqHj8wl_PuCJpYOMM0utoJKj5KrStF5Fabog6nvFBrgrgw-NY_RAZMJCB-LEUsZUOBfV2oNNzQkiQb6mASlfNcXwCg/s320/tumblr_l9dgqa1Fbt1qdui8oo1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a>A little under a year ago I was celebrating my 29th birthday. Though we had recently gotten <a href="http://inconception.blogspot.com/2012/12/obligatory-its-been-awhile-post.html" target="_blank">some pretty heavy news</a> about our odds of conceiving a child and I was <a href="http://inconception.blogspot.com/2012/10/adventures-in-laparoscopic-surgery.html" target="_blank">facing surgery</a> for my endometriosis, I decided to treat myself to a nice day out and about. I went out shopping and found myself two coveted pairs of jeans that fit nicely, tucked into my first salted caramel mocha of the season, started <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Repairman_Jack_(series)" target="_blank">the last book in a series</a> I'd been reading since I was 14 and took a trial boxing class at a local gym.<br />
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Fast forward almost twelve months later. The jeans don't fit, the book was a little bit of a let down (sorry F. Paul), I gave up boxing out of fear of popping an ovary and I've got no baby to show for any of my efforts.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
One of the things I was most looking forward to getting back to, now that "Project Get Knocked Up" is an official no-go, was boxing. I'd banked a couple of months of training at a really great boxing gym a few blocks from my house and was madly in love with it. Let me tell you, there is not much in the world that 45 minutes of punching won't make better.<br />
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Sadly, the months of <strike>inactivity</strike> cowering in fear left me in no shape to get back to heavy training. Taking the advice that the fight takes place in the ring, but is won on the road, I decided to start running.<br />
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I hate running.<br />
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Trust me, I've run a marathon, and hated a good 87% of it. But... it's the single most convenient exercise I can engage in and I really, really need the cardio.<br />
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Enter the <a href="https://www.zombiesrungame.com/" target="_blank">Zombies!Run</a> 5k training program. It's an interactive audio game that takes place in a post zombie apocalypse universe (how's that for a mouthful!) You play as a refugee in Able township, and the 5k program takes you through 8 weeks of training that gradually increases in difficultly until you're fit enough to be a full fledged supply runner (and move on to their regular episodic running game).<br />
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I am having a blast with this. It's fun, and wanting to know what happens next in the story is getting me out on the road regularly. Plus, playing the role of "bad ass post zombie apocalypse supply runner" is way preferable to "sad sack post ovary apocalypse couch sitter".knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-31201659098588445712013-09-23T08:00:00.000-07:002013-09-23T08:00:00.894-07:00shake it off - Bee & PuppycatWhile my "monthly visitor" is no longer as crushing a reminder of our failures as it once was, it still thoroughly sucks. I mean, can't I just have my uterus out at this point?<div>
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Annnnnnnyway, here's some internet cartoon awesomeness, garunteed to make just about anything better.</div>
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<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/lOG_UtLxh58/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/lOG_UtLxh58&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/lOG_UtLxh58&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
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*new reader disclaimer* Shake it off is my semi regular, "oh great, I'm not pregnant again" series. They are little micro-doses of internet awesomeness designed to scientifically decrease your life's suckitude. WITH SCIENCE.</div>
knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-47799555995613942532013-09-22T15:01:00.000-07:002013-09-22T15:01:53.756-07:00Happy ICLW!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1933P2rfZZqVxZThIzz5yndpSSXmjFjHNRX2Sco2-WgOjIcs04VwFEBIZQSUfRbDL3j7zrcik5MpMnDP3VujunkZCBSw6zf0Uehv5b4rcAfPwGqLku6dwN_DtsRsrlwseTHglN8_MiY0/s1600/sticker,375x360.u2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1933P2rfZZqVxZThIzz5yndpSSXmjFjHNRX2Sco2-WgOjIcs04VwFEBIZQSUfRbDL3j7zrcik5MpMnDP3VujunkZCBSw6zf0Uehv5b4rcAfPwGqLku6dwN_DtsRsrlwseTHglN8_MiY0/s200/sticker,375x360.u2.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm just going to go ahead and lie<br /> here until someone casts heal</td></tr>
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Just wanted to post a quick hello to everyone here from September's ICLW.<div>
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Here are two good posts to get any new reader's up-to-date:</div>
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Our IF diagnosis(es...essssss... oh god there are so many diagnoses...)</div>
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<a href="http://inconception.blogspot.com/2012/12/obligatory-its-been-awhile-post.html">http://inconception.blogspot.com/2012/12/obligatory-its-been-awhile-post.html</a></div>
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7 (ish?) IUI's and 0.7(???) IVF attempts later, we tapped out:</div>
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<a href="http://inconception.blogspot.com/2013/08/shit-weve-gotta-get-your-sperm-out-of.html">http://inconception.blogspot.com/2013/08/shit-weve-gotta-get-your-sperm-out-of.html</a></div>
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What started here as a place to talk about treatment, is right now becoming a place to talk about not being in treatment anymore. While adoption is on the table for us, we are pretty beat up at this point. The plan right now is to head back to the inn to sleep the last fight off, then we might go grind a few levels to max out our HP, do a fedex quest or two, then get out there for the next round. Yea... video games... </div>
knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-36722436209896953142013-09-11T14:56:00.000-07:002013-09-23T14:21:03.777-07:00taking my life back - one cup at a timeSteel yourselves, kind readers, because I'm about to wax all kinds of poetic about a coffee maker.<br />
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First off, meet my new friend:<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
Today I went out (after scouring the world for a Bed, Bath & Beyond coupon - seriously, they're never around when you actually need one!) and picked myself up a spiffy new coffeemaker.<br />
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But this is not just a simple coffee maker.<br />
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No.<br />
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This is mornings off spent reading and sipping coffee instead of rushing out before the sun to go be probed and have my blood taken.<br />
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This is filling up a travel mug at 0615 as I run out the door to kick ass and save lives for 12 hours.<br />
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This is me letting go of the guilt. The guilt I felt every time I had a cup of coffee, even though my doctor never told me explicitly to give up caffeine, or that my one cup a day habit was having ill effects on our conception.<br />
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This is me saying that there was nothing I could have eaten, or not eaten, done or not done that would have had any affect on the outcome.<br />
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This is me saying that my infertility was not my fault.<br />
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And then having a fucking cup of coffee.knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-56757694788067347522013-09-09T07:42:00.000-07:002013-09-09T08:04:03.679-07:00just in case you guys don't start to think I'm too braveSince for me adoption is still on the table, stopping treatment didn't mean that we were deciding not to parent. However one of the things I realized I would have to face eventually was the reality that I would never use "mah lady parts" to conceive and carry a child.<br />
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Up until now I've been resolutely refusing to consider that fact and distracting myself with all the joys of not actively trying to get pregnant (caffeine and alcohol and allergy medication and intense exercise - yay!) but this morning that all kind of came crashing down around me and I had a wee bit of a freak out.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
I was in the shower thinking about what I wanted to do for my upcoming birthday (high ropes adventure course followed by lots of drinking and arcade games with friends perhaps?) and it sunk in for a moment that I'll be turning 30. It wasn't the traditional "oh no, my ovaries are going to dry up" freak out that most women have facing their 30's. My ovaries have already pretty much dried up, that's not a big shocker for me.<br />
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But I felt overwhelmed with sadness that almost 30 seems so young to have come to the conclusion that I won't ever carry a child. The rest of my life from almost 30 on seems like such a long time to never get to be pregnant.<br />
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And I had this short panic fantasy about another secret round of IVF (just one more hit...) and how we wouldn't have to tell anyone and we could just sneakily try to harvest some eggs and no one would be the wiser.<br />
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I truly don't want to cycle again, but this morning for a brief few moments I seriously thought about it and that right there is why stepping off the IF treatment treadmill is so damn difficult. It'll always be there waiting for me with open arms, sharp pointy needles and the halfhearted promise of a possibility of maybe getting pregnant.<br />
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Then I watched this video of dancing Japanese USB lighters and that kind of made things better.<br />
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shhh... it's better not to think about it... just watch.<br />
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<br />knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-9892576929056424622013-09-02T07:50:00.000-07:002013-09-09T08:04:16.564-07:00tapping out - why I stopped treatment<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VEhCWKT8yH97A9a0EURV5FRMQaQu-4piLIytuiWD4LCCIy5Fkz4MPArKSwHZiF0f2ntgZvYnAR4eimtC_BRTSoUldYweWChHheGq_kZeNU5harPtoD4LhSkd_5mSkb_z-6N85lgO-r0/s1600/hot+mess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VEhCWKT8yH97A9a0EURV5FRMQaQu-4piLIytuiWD4LCCIy5Fkz4MPArKSwHZiF0f2ntgZvYnAR4eimtC_BRTSoUldYweWChHheGq_kZeNU5harPtoD4LhSkd_5mSkb_z-6N85lgO-r0/s200/hot+mess.jpg" width="188" /></a>Prior to making the BIG DECISION I'd read dozens of well meaning, but ultimately vague and unhelpful articles about how to know if you're ready to stop treatment. They're all basically short lists that can be condensed into one sentence:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"You're a hot fucking mess."</div>
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Now that the BIG DECISION has been made, I thought I would be done pondering all the reasons we decided to walk away. Over the past few days the overwhelming feeling has been one of relief. I've been enjoying all the things one cannot enjoy while actively trying to get knocked up (caffeine and alcohol and allergy medication and intense exercise, ohmy!)<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
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But I have a confession to make. When I got my last period I automatically called for a cycle day 3 appointment. I hung up before they answered, but the point is I called. Every now and then, as sure as I am that we've made the right decision, I find myself in this kind of blind panic.<br />
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Because I don't know what cycle day this is. And I don't know when my clinic will be up for IVF again, and I don't know what meds I should be on right now and I drank two glasses of wine last night and didn't hang my feet in the air after sex, etc, etc, etc.<br />
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It feels like I'm going cold turkey, that this treatment is a fucking addiction.<br />
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And I don't want to fall off this horse. In all the possible iterations of the next few years of my life, the only one I never want to happen is the one where we go back to treatment.<br />
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So, per the advice of the medical professional tasked with keeping me sane (ish?), what follows is the list of things that let me know I was ready to stop treatment.<br />
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<ul>
<li>I was tired of constantly feeling ill because of treatment. Excusing myself from commitments because I was too bloated, too wracked with nausea or headaches, or just plain too fucking exhausted.</li>
<li>I was tired of the emotional roller coaster. The cycle of hope and disappointment, the pervasive fear of doing something wrong that would reduce our chances.</li>
<li>I felt so completely fragile. I gave up so many things I loved to do because I was afraid of popping an over-sized ovary. I'm pretty sure the guys at my boxing gym think I have cancer because of my on again off again workouts over the past two years. I walked around at work in constant fear that I'd help boost an overweight patient in bed and wind up doubled over on the floor with a twisted Fallopian tube or that a disoriented patient would throw out a limb and catch me in the stomach, dislodging that month's imaginary embryo.</li>
<li>The end was so very very disconnected from the means. Treatment stopped feeling like something I was doing to get pregnant and instead just felt like I was ill and this was something I had to do to survive. The thought that a baby might come from what we were doing was crossing my mind less and less frequently.</li>
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And now, the kicker. The number one reason why stopping was ultimately a no-brainer when we actually were honest with ourselves and talked about it.<br />
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<li>We didn't think treatment would work.</li>
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I could have put up with everything if we thought it would get us a child, but the truth of it is, we had no confidence that any treatment would could realistically pursue would be successful.<br />
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And spending thousands of dollars and immeasurable physical, emotional and mental torment on something you didn't even honestly think was going to work?<br />
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Yea, not a good idea.</div>
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knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-87729622556067817392013-08-25T13:32:00.000-07:002013-08-27T13:47:30.977-07:00shaking hands with the elephantI was looking into advice and help coping with the BIG DECISION top stop treatment last week and stumbled upon this <a href="http://bitterinfertiles.wordpress.com/2013/02/05/episode-20/" target="_blank">podcast about living child-free</a>.<br />
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While adoption is still very much an option for us, we're both pretty damn broken right now. We don't feel ready to start on another massively difficult undertaking and we have no illusions that adoption, while it may well be wonderful in the end and is very likely going to be our route to parenthood, will not be a massively difficult undertaking.</div>
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Anyway, I was mostly looking for a "how to" guide for getting through these first few days of figuring out life now that I'm not actively trying to get knocked up anymore. This podcast is way more than that, and definitely worth giving a listen.</div>
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It made me realize that prior to this I was among the many infertile people who refused to acknowledge a pretty big elephant in the room: those of us who walked away from treatment <b>without</b> a baby.</div>
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Those people always seemed so sad to me. Like they'd given up, weren't strong enough, or that their circumstances forced them to no longer to be able to keep fighting to conceive. I was so tempted by thought that we could stop, but also so scared by it. It felt like it was the "weak" decision.</div>
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The reality of it is, now that I've made it, walking away from treatment is one of the bravest decisions I have ever made in my life.</div>
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knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-21948163995652108452013-08-23T12:44:00.000-07:002013-08-27T13:31:46.149-07:00shit... we've gotta get your sperm out of there.<br />
Let's break this down quick so you all can get up to speed:<br />
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<ul>
<li>There's been high drama at my clinic. The RE was very ill and they flew a doctor in from across the country to do IVF in August.</li>
<li>Our IVF failed - we did not even make it to retrieval. I only produced 4 follicles. Aforementioned doctor from across the country (DFAC?) was not there when this happened. The NP and PA both reviewed our files and concluded that we could "do better" and sacked the cycle.<br /><a name='more'></a></li>
<li>We have a meeting with DFAC a week later. He tells us that with diminished ovarian reserve he doesn't think we can honestly expect to do better than 4-6 mature follicles and he would have advised us to go ahead.</li>
<li>My head explodes</li>
<li>I express frustration at a support group run by the clinic.</li>
<li>Nurse from support group calls me the next day. Gets defensive, tells everyone in the clinic what I said in support group (and I do mean everyone - on a later call back the receptionist knew). Insists we meet with the original doctor who is in recovery and beginning to see patients (side note: I saw him out in the real world the previous week, he doesn't look like he should be retrieving eggs from the grocery store).</li>
<li>We feel like we are being sent to the principle's office.</li>
<li>That night, we lit a big fire in the fire pit and talked for about 6 hours. Big things discussed and we realize that not only do we have no desire to meet with <a href="http://inconception.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-re-visit-with-our-reproductive.html" target="_blank">Dr. Burrito</a> , we both want off this crazy thing.</li>
<li>THE DECISION to stop treatment is made.</li>
<li>Meet with my therapist today and remember that they have some of my husband's sperm. Realize we need to get it the fuck out of there.</li>
</ul>
knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-67709327546442909422013-07-09T09:06:00.000-07:002013-09-09T08:04:29.265-07:00gotta catch 'em all!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGszv4A7hibEQlKeGLUgFKPMDiWGI-Mnl6o8xn-kyCRU2gb4N51vhOG18RzwpqzV3hZ-oof4fX4RtyVqCr1cjtev9IgKtAWH3l-YTYfuAgFD1RZblyQBr3uCwJBmEyPT4yjK2fO_66uBw/s1600/pokemon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGszv4A7hibEQlKeGLUgFKPMDiWGI-Mnl6o8xn-kyCRU2gb4N51vhOG18RzwpqzV3hZ-oof4fX4RtyVqCr1cjtev9IgKtAWH3l-YTYfuAgFD1RZblyQBr3uCwJBmEyPT4yjK2fO_66uBw/s320/pokemon.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
It occurred to me this morning that I am growing into a veritable pokemaster of physicians.<br />
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Let me show you my doctors. My doctors, let me show you them.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>So of course we have a reproductive endocrinologist (RE), the spearhead of treatment for my "can't-get-knocked-up-itis".<br />
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But then! Just to be thorough I also see a regular endocrinologist. Because... of reasons. Endocrine reasons.<br />
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You'd think all that time at the RE would have that particular base covered... you know... third base? Get it? I'm talking about my vagina. But no! I also need to suffer the shame of popping into my ob-gyn's office and wading through an ass deep pool of parenting magazines and pregnant ladies to keep my various smears and such up to date in order to earn the privilege of thrice weekly trans-vaginal ultrasounds at my reproductive endocrinologist.<br />
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I also see an acupuncturist. I have nothing to say here. I love my acupuncturist. I wish I could carry her around in my pocket and take her out whenever times get tough.<br />
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Damn I'm creepy.<br />
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Ok, let us move on to the auxiliary staff. I like to refer to these particular poke-docs as the butterfly effect specialists. If a butterfly flaps it's wings on one side of the world it can cause a tsunami on the other. If a type A, neurotic, over-achieving woman can't conceive naturally it can cause her to FALL APART AT THE SEAMS. Makes perfect sense.<br />
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This shit is pretty damn stressful, and depressing as all fuck. No two ways about it, it messes with you. So I see a lady therapist who specializes in infertility, then both my husband and I see a dude therapist who also specializes in infertility for couples.<br />
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As previously noted on multiple occasions, I am insane. As such I don't manifest stress in normal ways. Instead I bottle it up until it boils to the surface in the form of stress eczema, or, as I affectionately refer to it, streggzema! BAM DERMOTOLOGIST!<br />
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I also am a bruxer. Man do I brux. I'm like, an Olympic quality grinder of teeth. In the past 3 weeks I have been to the dentist twice for horrible tooth grinding chips. He has recommended both a custom bite guard (hooray more medical bills!) and that I consult a chiropractor (hooray, even more medical bills!).<br />
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And, finally, my insurance requires that I check in with a primary physician from time to time to manage all this insanity. I'm seeing a new one next week actually (finally moved on from Dr. "just relax/adopt and you'll get pregnant"), I don't expect that she'll know what hit her.<br />
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Alright, enough for now, I'm going to go play Mass Effect and eat pudding until either the Novocaine wears off or my next doctor's appointment (spoiler alert: it will probably be a doctor's appointment)knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-49565066655932213942013-05-17T15:29:00.000-07:002013-09-09T08:04:39.474-07:00decaf homemade almond milk ice coffee, you're not fooling *anyone*And we have bizarre diet changes and caffeine withdrawal headaches folks!<br />
<br />
...<br />
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The first person to tell me there's still caffeine in decaf will get virtually smacked upside the head.knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-72294820677438342482013-05-15T10:28:00.000-07:002013-05-15T10:28:29.844-07:00My day in 10 easy steps!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLV9IjTH0l1sxCaU4uTWxh1qybAWS6P5wxI4lHGtme1Y0WXZcXEoHcJbzb_BaeP7XbQVLDIfm1A3bogbnI3HZ9z-bDyiHojWUtFbAmlUuI38NWMmBEtp7wKnT4flMi49xEI2Sh08o6dMc/s1600/lie_down_try_not_to_cry_cry_a_lot_cleaned_525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLV9IjTH0l1sxCaU4uTWxh1qybAWS6P5wxI4lHGtme1Y0WXZcXEoHcJbzb_BaeP7XbQVLDIfm1A3bogbnI3HZ9z-bDyiHojWUtFbAmlUuI38NWMmBEtp7wKnT4flMi49xEI2Sh08o6dMc/s320/lie_down_try_not_to_cry_cry_a_lot_cleaned_525.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Step 1 - wake up<br />
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Step 2 - sweat pants<br />
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Step 3 - make waffles<br />
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Step 4 - eat waffles with hands while pacing in kitchen<br />
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Step 5 - try RuPaul's Drag Race on Netflix<br />
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Step 6 - realize that you are not the kind of person who can be cheered up by fabulous, life-loving drag queens. try not to think too hard about what that means.<br />
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Step 7 - purchase <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Fault-Stars-John-Green/dp/1455869910" target="_blank">John Green book</a><br />
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Step 8 - read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Fault-Stars-John-Green/dp/1455869910" target="_blank">John Green book</a><br />
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Step 9 - try not to cry<br />
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Step 10 - cry a lot<br />
<br />knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-82490321255583100142013-05-12T07:07:00.000-07:002013-05-12T07:09:52.031-07:00On Mother's DayA lot of people in the infertility community dread today, put self imposed bans on Facebook and avoid locations where mother's day is likely to pop up and remind them that they are not a mother (brunch spots, card stores, places of worship, groceries, flower shops, restaurants, any place beyond the front door and lets just be honest it's probably best to stay in bed with the covers over your head quietly humming to yourself).<br />
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I didn't have any plans to do any such deprivation today, and while the few posts I've already seen on Facebook this morning did make my heart take that slight dip into my stomach - overall I'm not feeling this day is any different.<br />
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Maybe it's partly because I've finally gone numb to it all? I know for a fact it's not because I'm all zen and accepting about our situation (that's for fucks sure).<br />
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But the overwhelming feeling I am experiencing at the moment, and perhaps this is why today hasn't sent me into hysterics (yet!) is that I'm not a mom, and can't even aspire to be lumped in with today's celebrants.<br />
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That my major life goal right now is so unobtainable that I can't even look at those who have it and be jealous.<br />
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And *that* is some shit I need to work on.knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-9210804318081998042013-05-09T13:30:00.000-07:002013-05-09T13:30:31.708-07:00The Extended Forecast<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03bxUh2cmNRZ0iE-LuMrc_vNbnfsaKNw7H3pSNEYuHa807P_8FeaoYEiXgayfD2r9GzLQXNFD_7nStsNy2rIcgR5RymQE3Lm-qvU-kxCN0dK4bisJAvF-dCQrvO5gccCdnTbv0cyJayc/s1600/weather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03bxUh2cmNRZ0iE-LuMrc_vNbnfsaKNw7H3pSNEYuHa807P_8FeaoYEiXgayfD2r9GzLQXNFD_7nStsNy2rIcgR5RymQE3Lm-qvU-kxCN0dK4bisJAvF-dCQrvO5gccCdnTbv0cyJayc/s320/weather.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<b>May</b> - You know what they say! April cancelled-due-to-over-stimulation IUIs bring May self loathing and<br />
binging! Expect periods of heavy drinking. Our satellites are showing a high likelihood of renewed ice coffee and frozen yogurt addiction.<br />
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<b>June</b> - Summer will finally be in full swing and we're anticipating an unprecedented renewed commitment to "fuck, I'll do anything to get knocked up naturally" periodic lifestyle changes. A strong yoga front should be bringing with it "positive affirmations" and "guided imagery". Experts are uncertain whether or not "ridiculous diet changes" will rear their ugly heads again, but are guaranteeing caffeine withdrawal and rebound "this is stupid!" pre-adolescent self-criticism.<br />
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<b>July</b> - Well folks, we thought we'd be able to avoid this one, but we're now forecasting a Category 5 Hormone Storm sometime in early July. High doses of Lupron and Follistim will mix with "that IVF you until recently were sure you'd *never* do" promising bitchiness up to 157 miles an hour or higher and catastrophic ugly crying meltdowns.<br />
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Batten down the hatches!<br />
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And if you don't have hatches - go out, buy some, and batten those fuckers down.knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-53612807338279935722013-05-08T09:34:00.002-07:002013-05-08T09:34:39.757-07:00Shake it off - HAPPY DOGGuess what time it is folks?!<br />
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You got it - it's "still not pregnant o'clock"!<br />
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But this dog doesn't care, cause it is the happiest dog *in the world*<br />
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<a href="http://cheezburger.com/7425056768" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://i.chzbgr.com/maxW500/7425056768/h61D24471/" width="346" /></a></div>
<br />knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-25273185828953579582013-05-03T19:37:00.000-07:002013-05-07T19:42:05.001-07:00A re-visit with our reproductive endocrinologist, as told by animated gifs.I have been pondering for the past few days about how best to tell the tale of our re-visit with our reproductive endocrinologist last week and have settled on the time honored tradition of the animated .gif!<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Let's kick this off by saying that the nursing staff at my RE's office does pretty much *everything* and here's what I think of them:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7JC0TkXrYOb_Qb-Nkfa8hZ7abLIt_nH_QeRbf9DmvIIhEVLqHtLb0483zQWkFq2KVfPJSFYwmAZTcL-u-Ps52SVa1KGqG7AcT_TvSOf8U4AS_x2zHlGKd5vN97IrYLXP0IWr0Y3Q-W4/s1600/tumblr_m9x0p48n9B1ry937io1_250.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7JC0TkXrYOb_Qb-Nkfa8hZ7abLIt_nH_QeRbf9DmvIIhEVLqHtLb0483zQWkFq2KVfPJSFYwmAZTcL-u-Ps52SVa1KGqG7AcT_TvSOf8U4AS_x2zHlGKd5vN97IrYLXP0IWr0Y3Q-W4/s1600/tumblr_m9x0p48n9B1ry937io1_250.gif" /></a></div>
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My RE himself is... good at what he does, but an incredible, self-important jerk for a face. We get 45 minutes with him once every 3 months. He does not deign to review our file before hand, instead he waits until we get into his office, then sits down and begins to waste our time by reviewing our labs quietly, on his computer, right in front of us, while we're all:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqvn65k69MhjKoeusoOxx1TxMjswNGd6ktPWBvbExjhOBic8ukMGryRmRfsDddWVmSgtgdkWMtw8u9aNLCwe97pkiAWR_DSz8TmM79QSkVASvg-G0tmVKVNlR938iHk_JUmJ8A1V6zjM/s1600/tumblr_mge1zdGCuB1rkktmbo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqvn65k69MhjKoeusoOxx1TxMjswNGd6ktPWBvbExjhOBic8ukMGryRmRfsDddWVmSgtgdkWMtw8u9aNLCwe97pkiAWR_DSz8TmM79QSkVASvg-G0tmVKVNlR938iHk_JUmJ8A1V6zjM/s320/tumblr_mge1zdGCuB1rkktmbo1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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After taking about 10 minutes to look over our labs, he opened with "everything looks perfect, you should be pregnant. This is frustrating!"</div>
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At which point I'm thinking he's going for some sort of shock an awe tactic right off the bat. He then proceeds to give us his standard "I'm ok with you staying conservative and continuing IUI, but you could also move on to IVF" useless speech.<br />
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I interrupted him to tell him that as far as we were concerned our options were stopping treatment or IVF. He told us then that he didn't think that we should stop, which I suppose could be taken as encouraging. Not to worry though readers, he then went on to tell us about needing to have faith through gritted teeth, it was like watching a man possessed. I've never heard someone sound so sincere whilst violently avoiding rolling his eyes at his own statements. He started to talk about prayer groups at one point and I thought he was going to have a seizure. Then he said, and I quoth, "It's possible to want it too much"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwDuq114DdxYMNj_1pvipdFa4DFT10JldTtJgMzuwohC4I_4-BpJr8SxDxVV4AJPzfJhFqfBl83xedPMH8Vw4xchq-Kvgv5us5klyeJ4KSNW_Qw36AbHUqTOKyh6MBAniF0SBfsd5Phg/s1600/tumblr_inline_ml8iivmg7c1qz4rgp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwDuq114DdxYMNj_1pvipdFa4DFT10JldTtJgMzuwohC4I_4-BpJr8SxDxVV4AJPzfJhFqfBl83xedPMH8Vw4xchq-Kvgv5us5klyeJ4KSNW_Qw36AbHUqTOKyh6MBAniF0SBfsd5Phg/s320/tumblr_inline_ml8iivmg7c1qz4rgp.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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By now, I've decided to stop engaging as I'm sure I've extracted everything useful this man has to say to us. My husband however wanted to hear about what our doctor thought about reproductive immunology, since we'd both been reading a lot about it and I have auto-immune diseases.</div>
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I wish I possessed the kind of comedic genius requisite to have made up what he then said to us. I shit you not kind readers, this man proceeded to tell us what he had in his burrito the night before.</div>
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You see, he'd been eating a lot of Moe's lately and was uncertain where the meat and vegetables in said burrito came from. As such, the pollutants we now consume could possibly be causing us to have more immune issues. But, blah, blah, blah, blah, he doesn't believe in reproductive immunology. I wanted to interrupt and suggest he try Chipotle instead.</div>
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Finally the meeting was over. I felt like I'd gained no insight into what to do next, and it took every piece of self restraint not to:</div>
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Once we got back to the car we decided to have a little debrief and it went something along the lines of:</div>
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We still need to do a lot of thinking about what to do next...</div>
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<br />knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-51280034743933690402013-04-27T05:14:00.001-07:002013-04-27T05:28:02.301-07:00Outdated book is outdated"Adopting after infertility" is in sore need of a reprint<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviAKnMzUuoIA2I4iRFeItIDp_hHsSfvqzy3tU9dJNznEtF29tbxukvqe2kC9MG0wtDK1ZWIbaoJY0DWH4E7lo-lILnZF556GtJH5vz4xGUHtMxJ0vBlSMdaJYN7zuPDiwfyiOG7QLWJ8/s1600/1367064784742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviAKnMzUuoIA2I4iRFeItIDp_hHsSfvqzy3tU9dJNznEtF29tbxukvqe2kC9MG0wtDK1ZWIbaoJY0DWH4E7lo-lILnZF556GtJH5vz4xGUHtMxJ0vBlSMdaJYN7zuPDiwfyiOG7QLWJ8/s400/1367064784742.jpg" width="400" /> </a> </div>
knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-41651883366306454732013-04-25T21:18:00.001-07:002013-04-25T21:18:21.986-07:00Some much needed levity<p>It's been a bit of an emotional day here. I plan on posting a full entry about this morning's meeting with the doctor soon but for now just a quick slice of funny and some insight into why I'm sure that no matter what happens, A (my husband) and I will be ok.</p>
<p>A - how long do we need to use condoms for?<br>
K - crap, I almost completely forgot about that. I'm glad you remembered, with 11 follicles that would have given a whole new meaning to unsafe sex.<br>
A - man, what would you even call that? Elevenuplets? <br>
K - my uterus explode-ples? <br>
A - Jon and Kate plus fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck</p>
<p>:: we dissolve into giggle fit::</p>
knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-28354106472870900432013-04-23T18:09:00.001-07:002013-04-23T18:09:10.389-07:00These go to Eleven<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghg8zfZyQN_gUfE9ji0KtGClh_tjL1gi7NWxCVG7cUqVVHxesp-bvo-CURMtAQtjttqUyiwyTz5xzbATw3QEg31kaIqeuG1VpIlN5HdeH_lhLJeCFwzHndgxQ1oIxkIXV607J2KJ8rtEA/s1600/Spinal_Tap_-_Up_to_Eleven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghg8zfZyQN_gUfE9ji0KtGClh_tjL1gi7NWxCVG7cUqVVHxesp-bvo-CURMtAQtjttqUyiwyTz5xzbATw3QEg31kaIqeuG1VpIlN5HdeH_lhLJeCFwzHndgxQ1oIxkIXV607J2KJ8rtEA/s200/Spinal_Tap_-_Up_to_Eleven.jpg" width="200" /></a>So I was really gearing up for National Infertility Week this week, planning on blogging all the blogs, posting all the thoughtful posts to Facebook and just generally getting all insightful up in the Internet's business.<br />
<br />
Then my infertility reminded me that there's no way I can be that much of a contributing member of society.<br />
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Monday morning's clinic visit revealed that my ovaries decided to stop by the site of an experimental gamma bomb testing sometime earlier in the week without my knowing. In spite of a relatively low dose of follistim this cycle, those little suckers decided to pop out ELEVEN follicles this month.<br /><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATuiitSkX5nF_GgNdcB8oFWL6EwFPvTPXNnkI5TKis8Ow19P44-MVsGLVrShoALg-4W7uCN4iEkpmDV3vFqTK6iO-wYQdCXyow92qy2mlipsm2orYR8LQ8jVWRaPED5rTsBRo9_Sbv-s/s1600/the_hulk_by_joejusko.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATuiitSkX5nF_GgNdcB8oFWL6EwFPvTPXNnkI5TKis8Ow19P44-MVsGLVrShoALg-4W7uCN4iEkpmDV3vFqTK6iO-wYQdCXyow92qy2mlipsm2orYR8LQ8jVWRaPED5rTsBRo9_Sbv-s/s200/the_hulk_by_joejusko.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like the Hulk, if the Hulk had ovaries...<br />ok, like She Hulk. Whatever, I'm <br />not changing the picture.</td></tr>
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<br />
Eleven is too many for an IUI.<br />
<br />
And they offered us a IVF conversion.<br />
<br />
And we seriously considered it. <br /><br />Like, pull the husband out of work, try to come up with the down payment, rearrange our lives, seriously considered it.<br />
<br />
Then the clinic called to say it looked like I was already ovulating and it was too late for an IVF. Glad we burned through 8 yrs worth of emotional energy this morning!<br />
<br />
This was a pretty significant turn of events for us. Previously we'd been thinking that we're getting close to done with this whole medically assisted baby-making business and didn't want to consider IVF. But now we're left wondering - if we'd do it for a conversion, why wouldn't we consider it as a full cycle, when it was better planned and managed and we'd have a better chance of harvesting more eggs?<br />
<br />
We've got a revisit with our Doctor of baby making on Thursday and have decided it best not to even attempt to make any decisions until then. We're also looking at a good month and a half off now that this cycle is abandoned and my ovaries will likely be hiding out in Kolkata next month, err... I mean I'll likely have cysts next month.<br />
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knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-42158337532606083262013-04-21T15:13:00.001-07:002013-04-21T15:13:51.550-07:00Making it Facebook Official<span style="font-family: inherit;">I bit the bullet this morning and made our infertility "Facebook Official" in honor of <a href="http://resolve.org/niaw" target="_blank">National Infertility Awareness Week</a>. Here's my status, feel free to copy and use it yourself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today marks the start of National Infertility Awareness Week. Infertility is a life changing, devastating, invisible disease. 1 in 8 couples endure painful, invasive, and expensive medical intervention, just for the hope of having a child.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Couples like us.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I’m coming out about our struggle this week to raise awareness. Suffering quietly makes it easy for society to dismiss this struggle as unimportant and perpetuates the cultural-silence and shame infertility patients are faced with at diagnosis. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This year’s theme is “Join the Movement” and I’m joining by speaking up.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Learn more at <a href="http://resolve.org/niaw" target="_blank">http://resolve.org/niaw</a></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> So far the response has been overwhelmingly positive. I'm hoping to post something every day to raise awareness. I also changed my cover photo to one of the awesome ones Keiko from <a href="http://theinfertilityvoice.com/" target="_blank">The Infertility Voice</a> made up. You can find them here: </span><a href="http://theinfertilityvoice.com/niaw-2013/" target="_blank">http://theinfertilityvoice.com/niaw-2013/</a>knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-30155369057405126352013-04-17T16:02:00.001-07:002013-04-17T16:02:46.190-07:00Baby Not On Board<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQ4IFaGRGhR5DU4h7l7GpJHyzgECFczBFHChbE4l33qhwLtB1qvPqwiFQUjmvoOuTNY5aPRcgs_HFkO1CJGJhjHfWn_M6vODhiG5vxR78xpHY21wPDazhgIBDZKPMa0CVPDQcflD0HmM/s1600/2011-honda-cr-v_100325129_s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQ4IFaGRGhR5DU4h7l7GpJHyzgECFczBFHChbE4l33qhwLtB1qvPqwiFQUjmvoOuTNY5aPRcgs_HFkO1CJGJhjHfWn_M6vODhiG5vxR78xpHY21wPDazhgIBDZKPMa0CVPDQcflD0HmM/s1600/2011-honda-cr-v_100325129_s.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my car</td></tr>
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Imaginary blog readers, I want to take you on a magical journey through time. Back to the good old summer of 2011!<br />
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Things were pretty damn magical for the REDACTED's back in the summer of aught-eleven. We were enjoying our first warm weather in our new three bedroom home. I had just graduated from nursing school and landed a job that I liked very much and we were just on the verge of making the decision to go contraceptive free for the first time in our lives!<br />
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Needing to get myself to the aforementioned job at 6:45am several days a week, our new home in the 'burbs and the fact that we had always been a one car couple meant it was also time to go car shopping!<br />
<br />And we let the decision to soon be *cough* riding bareback *cough* weigh heavily on our choices. I wanted a four wheel drive car that could get me to my shift in the snow before the plows hit the roads, with good ground clearance to take us on the trails we love to hike... that could fit a baby seat, and diaper bag, and eventually our two beautiful biological children and their hockey equipment (no, I don't live in Canada, but yes, the kids where I live come out with skates on at birth, plus I'd make an *AWESOME* hockey mom.)<br />
<br />
So I soon found myself in possession of a 2011 Honda CR-V. The perfect way to say "I hike, and plan on soon being knocked up!"<br />
<br />
Fast forward to three weeks ago. We were driving out of Boston in our lovely and still relatively new car in stop and go traffic. The person in front of us decided to quickly stop, we stopped, but the people behind us were really into that going thing. And my shiny new icon-of-things-to-come car was pancaked.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh16ldcsUBbvoARQqY0ZdrnZ0Sp8lyRyg0aw1re_bUurD0jXwnskh-NHXP20pOOuDD_FG2JJ8dRY6671OUPtSIGRVszWZMA-0GnvkJeuvX_khegC4dTiHMcHu8XBS8oQqOUCTsR15huoeU/s1600/003sr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh16ldcsUBbvoARQqY0ZdrnZ0Sp8lyRyg0aw1re_bUurD0jXwnskh-NHXP20pOOuDD_FG2JJ8dRY6671OUPtSIGRVszWZMA-0GnvkJeuvX_khegC4dTiHMcHu8XBS8oQqOUCTsR15huoeU/s320/003sr.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my car on the Mass-Pike<br />(Disclaimer - it wasn't actually that bad, everyone is fine)</td></tr>
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I've been told in many ways over the past few years that a bio-kid might not be in the cards for us, but damn, smashing up my nice new baby-mobile hit me like a steaming hot pile of symbolism.<br />
<br />
Now we're faced with the decision of what car to replace it with. My loving husband helpfully made the suggestion that perhaps we should opt for something a little less pricey and family inclined (to save money for future family pursuit costs). I helpfully had a category 5 meltdown, blubbering such charmers as "Idontwanttoiveupmyfamilycar!" and "werenevergoingtohavechildren!"<br />
<br />
Infertility be not proud.<br />
<br />
So what do you buy when you want four wheel drive to deal with New England winters while you're driving around everywhere but to peewee hockey practice, high ground clearance to keep you from bottoming out on dirt roads for the hike's just you and your SO are on, that doesn't scream "mom-mobile"?<br />
<br />
I give you, the 2013 Subaru Crosstrek. Which I'm christening the official vehicle of moving on. Wherever the next months and years bring us, I'm sure this car can get us there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfmD13NjJjz9zRnKNCvCENQsfD693-CwsvuQ6dLqSJe1CQjfdr0u0gQ2dQNs0m97vCW7k27GxWmEvUo3b71uHC9RQKMec-vbnKOSuEeCg3yqBikILqRwtVGn71syGQImw8WBHUGKOtJQ/s1600/2013-dark-blue-subaru-xv-crosstrek-right-left-view-2013-subaru-xv-crosstrek-specifications.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfmD13NjJjz9zRnKNCvCENQsfD693-CwsvuQ6dLqSJe1CQjfdr0u0gQ2dQNs0m97vCW7k27GxWmEvUo3b71uHC9RQKMec-vbnKOSuEeCg3yqBikILqRwtVGn71syGQImw8WBHUGKOtJQ/s320/2013-dark-blue-subaru-xv-crosstrek-right-left-view-2013-subaru-xv-crosstrek-specifications.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And hopefully, one day, hold a baby seat. :)<br />
knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-40496175200898912162013-04-15T09:56:00.001-07:002013-04-15T09:56:29.402-07:00A fairly accurate representation of my feelings this past weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Liz lemon is my spirit animal.</div>
<br />knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-88857334214201282852013-03-01T18:39:00.000-08:002013-04-16T18:56:55.296-07:00IP&CB in the M - Fancy pants Downton Edition!<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJf3JX5SIa_kD9wMfFHW8L842PEEohCUbmIEih0rQXhbyEOn-08oEvKhC6eQwgLHvfzfqSLtyAm1nJZrc2BUp8lhTxuomHRRAOKOsKQ33XjLrrZPNEPHNIPzwr3vw0Vw9b3WBAbRv2uc/s1600/sybil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJf3JX5SIa_kD9wMfFHW8L842PEEohCUbmIEih0rQXhbyEOn-08oEvKhC6eQwgLHvfzfqSLtyAm1nJZrc2BUp8lhTxuomHRRAOKOsKQ33XjLrrZPNEPHNIPzwr3vw0Vw9b3WBAbRv2uc/s200/sybil.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.12239155638962984" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This time in Infertility, Pregnancy and Childbirth in the Media - thought you had enough "watching traumatic child birth scenes while taking high doses of fertility medications to last you several life times"? Well just wait - Downton Abbey is about to get all period drama on your period drama (oh wow, that was bad... <a href="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lwxswadR6N1qlfwzk.gif" target="_blank">I regret nothing</a>)</span></b><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Spoilers Ahoy!</span></b></span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span id="internal-source-marker_0.12239155638962984" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Medical Incompetency - Everyone's Favorite Deus Ex Machina!</b></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.sciencemuseum.org.uk/broughttolife/objects/display.aspx?id=93306"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7D4HlpYWQR-Z2alzTVjS4b36HUVkzDGd4oSQp4PiCqKWNz1wIbq4ygVn9yTQO4T3i2xnBBqsfK1hZgaheCC4GBBDX-_f2jHWTh7RLomkb-GKXMt0nTowTv9mxaLTzprF8lETgswRxFc/s200/hommedia.png" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sciencemuseum.org.uk/broughttolife/objects/display.aspx?id=93306" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Hi! I'm a Sphygomomanometer from 1920!</span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The second everyone's beloved and knocked up Lady Sybil began to complain of headaches and swollen ankles, I began to scream violently at the television for someone to get a blood pressure. (It went something along the lines of "<b id="internal-source-marker_0.12239155638962984" style="font-weight: normal;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.12239155638962984" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">SOMEONE TAKE A FUCKING BLOOD PRESSURE! </span></b></b><b id="internal-source-marker_0.12239155638962984" style="font-weight: normal;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.12239155638962984" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.12239155638962984" style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; vertical-align: baseline;">fuckyouSirQuackDoctorPhilipTapsell!!!"</span></b></span></b></b></span><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eclampisa (fancy doctor talk for seizures during or after pregnancy), and preeclampsia, (the state before eclampsia characterized by high blood pressures, head aches, swollen ankles) still affects thousands of women today. A little research however shows that in the 1920's Sybil's doctors should have done *something*</span></b></b></div>
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<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.15;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 21px; white-space: normal;"> "In 1897, Vaquez and Nobecourt were credited with the discovery of eclamptic hypertension</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 21px; white-space: normal;">. As a result of these contributions, the concept of the preeclamptic state was recognized. Physicians were now aware that the presence of edema, proteinuria, and headaches should raise concern about the possibility of</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 21px; white-space: normal;"> convulsions</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 21px; white-space: normal;">." (</span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.5;"><a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2951301/" target="_blank">A Historical Overview of Preeclampsia-Eclampsia</a>)</span></span></b></b></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I understand that the writers of Downton had to make a decision about how medically accurate they could be while still preserving the "conflict between two doctors" plot point but I'm starting to get a real sore spot from all this, "lets terrify women as much as possible about their lady parts" misinformation business.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just because you don't understand the uterus, doesn't mean you should fear the uterus.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Matthew and Mary Jump Clumsily onto the Infertility Bandwagon</span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: right; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ma9txmcbuD1r14hiko1_1280.png"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Awvtt42x4ZLHv5tyTYYZP1SX2iylmKwlVe6MiscOAcjGngcOaDVGtGJfXTD1hX8NSQE2xu7LVDV-ssXbxhJ0TpnzW5CnBWVCknpp2tcgg-c5qIrNrhMmPqcrQvGh5SQ4iVWLaWu6JdY/s200/images.jpg" width="125" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ma9txmcbuD1r14hiko1_1280.png" target="_blank">"I should start by saying that I can't </a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ma9txmcbuD1r14hiko1_1280.png" target="_blank">personally help you conceive. </a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ma9txmcbuD1r14hiko1_1280.png" target="_blank">Something happened to me </a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ma9txmcbuD1r14hiko1_1280.png" target="_blank">while scuba diving."</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the same episode as Lady Sybil's death, Matthew's concerns about his sperm quality are quickly dismissed by the aforementioned SirQuackDoctorPhillipTapsell, who even goes so far as to caution against worrying about it. A history of spinal trauma and paralysis doesn't cause infertility kids, worrying about infertility does!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.15;">Matthew and Mary are also a beautiful exampled of how *not* to communicate with your partner about fertility concerns. I cannot even begin to think about how much more complicated this whole business would be if my husband was sneaking around having secret semen </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">analyses.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.15;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 1.15;">Then Mary slips away to London to have mystery surgery (presumably the uterus reinsertion that <a href="http://inconception.blogspot.com/2012/12/infertility-pregnancy-and-childbirth-in.html" target="_blank">Robin from HIMYM</a> couldn't get) that repairs everything! Hooray!</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.15;"><b>And then Matthew winds up underneath a wagon.</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.15;">Finally! A birth on television that goes smoothly and everyone is happy an...</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGggtWy-en7t6EVvz7jdOPM3S4IaTZ4mqRIfrIqYjmP5-DGvK_Ghkj3i3hJuLK4y2kGZL1rPfGFuV6RpXqNF46oGxgYqO5gqOyoSZC8XZSA8Zduo12uc03JiifvG4uHu1gvNaPjpIJ-AM/s1600/Downton+Abbey,+Matthew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGggtWy-en7t6EVvz7jdOPM3S4IaTZ4mqRIfrIqYjmP5-DGvK_Ghkj3i3hJuLK4y2kGZL1rPfGFuV6RpXqNF46oGxgYqO5gqOyoSZC8XZSA8Zduo12uc03JiifvG4uHu1gvNaPjpIJ-AM/s320/Downton+Abbey,+Matthew.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Downton's one in, one out policy seems a little harsh...</span></td></tr>
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</b>knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-40232523637160026342013-02-15T12:00:00.000-08:002013-05-08T09:35:01.541-07:00Shake it off - Baby MonkeyIUI #4 dropped a big fat not pregnant on my lap this morning. I was really hopeful for some crazy reason this month. Looks like we'll be rocking injectibles next cycle.<br />
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Oh well, for right now - here's a baby monkey riding backwards on a pig, because the world has gone insane.<br />
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<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/5_sfnQDr1-o/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/5_sfnQDr1-o&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/5_sfnQDr1-o&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<br />knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-9038831678869287892013-01-14T11:37:00.000-08:002013-04-15T08:12:55.091-07:00Tired of Waiting<br />
What follows is sort of raw, and more serious than anything I've written here so far, but it felt good to write. I hesitated to publish it, but I want these feelings to be here. Even if they stand in stark contrast to the usual humor I use to lighten this situation, they are how I feel right now and I want them here.<br />
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<a href="http://kieltje.deviantart.com/art/The-Girl-Who-Waited-288145926" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7Ko2fhflUf0dl9L3Q-m4o7wWl5aXvDbL6xQ6WqOZ24S1-nl_v7QQhMKlCkRux-1zVA-jkl73RW0e7cwj6UNCpbO8xgSFlA6I3QyPKEbQW-gcqVtBrg6b5FchIHh8NyM4Ffz7Hfo0O6o/s200/the_girl_who_waited_by_kieltje-d4rjyti+%25281%2529.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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I find myself thinking more and more about adoption lately. In some ways it seems like I'm just desperately looking for a "way out" of this infertility mess, or that I'm using it as a safety net to make the grief of each failed attempt easier to bear. In others though, it seems right, like what we were meant to do, how our family was meant to be built.<br />
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At first I so desperately wanted to be pregnant, have a child that was equal parts me and my husband. But as time made it more and more apparent that that would be far, far easier said than done, I feel the idea of a biological child becoming more and more intertwined with my body's persistent rejection of every desperate attempt we've made to conceive that child.<br />
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If we found that this month was successful and we'd finally achieved what we've been working and praying so hard for... I don't know how I could move past my infertility. I don't see how I could be anything but terrified. I'm terrified of the unimaginable despair we would feel if after all this time we lost the first pregnancy we ever had. <br />
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I hate fertility treatments. I never wanted to be in this position and while its obvious that no one does, I never imagined that faced with the inability to have a child I would subject myself to the kind of poking, prodding and manipulation that modern medicine has devised to make my body do something it so clearly does not want to do. I'm terrified that the little life we fought so hard for, paid so much for... literally tore into this world in a way that feels so unnatural to me will live under the black cloud of what it took to get them here. Or worse yet, thanks to our desperate attempt to pass our flawed gene pool down, fight these battles themselves one day.<br />
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I know in the war against infertility my tour of duty has been fairly short. 16 months seems laughable compared to those who've fought for years and years. But I don't think I can do this very much longer. I don't think I'm willing to step up treatment much more than we are doing right now or continue to pursue this once the insurance well dries up after our 6 allotted IUIs. <br />
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I'm horrified to say this but... sometimes I'm not sure I want to be pregnant. Because being pregnant to me means endless months of synthetic hormones, side effects, transvaginal ultrasounds, injections and blood draws that mark my body with bruises to make sure I can't even look down at myself without knowing that I have failed at this. Being pregnant means more lab values, more nervous visits with doctors, more big decisions.<br />
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Being pregnant means more fear, more grief, more worry, more loss.<br />
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What I do want, more than anything, is to share this beautiful life my husband and I have built together with a child. To open our hearts to another soul, take this love that busts our home at its seams and shower it on a new life.<br />
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And I don't give two fucks anymore how that life got here.knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5912431116171734190.post-527837810799805152012-12-10T12:32:00.003-08:002012-12-10T12:32:19.322-08:00Signs of the Impending ApocalypseI have found two fairly reliable metrics in my life to determine how close I am to completely losing my shit:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA55JAQyw8xgJ3yTV0yKCVWlPSo3VylLROfsxPTk3mNqXXCn8ixG-n6DZOSNyr81ZKFfAyVewauR4i_OHwofwIrYkehVHAe3V95vmsGSG7hxJ2pMU6v-6C25WEdtc1HVujm3gj9FC1aC4/s1600/Still-from-Magic-Mike-011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA55JAQyw8xgJ3yTV0yKCVWlPSo3VylLROfsxPTk3mNqXXCn8ixG-n6DZOSNyr81ZKFfAyVewauR4i_OHwofwIrYkehVHAe3V95vmsGSG7hxJ2pMU6v-6C25WEdtc1HVujm3gj9FC1aC4/s200/Still-from-Magic-Mike-011.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no good can come from this....</td></tr>
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<ol>
<li>How close I've come to crying in public</li>
<li>The quality of television/movies I choose to pass the time with.</li>
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Post IUI this morning I cried in the parking lot, then went home and rented Magic Mike.</div>
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Shits about to get real, folks.</div>
knoellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02885644187438015528noreply@blogger.com0