Albert Einstein said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Every month, as I faithfully chart my cycle each day and pee on ovulation-predictor sticks, perfectly timing our conception efforts, I think of this quote. We keep doing the same exact thing, month after month, expecting that magically, this time, it will work.
Not surprisingly, once again, it did not work. You would think my high levels of hope followed by disappointment would begin to drop after six months of this pattern. With Einstein's quote in mind, my logical brain is fully expecting a period, not a pregnancy. Yet hope creeps into my heart, despite my best efforts to squash it. Doctors and Web articles don't help; they just say to keep trying, like Einstein didn't know what he was talking about. Try for a year. Sometimes it just takes a while. Up to 85 percent of couples trying to conceive will succeed within 12 months.
I like things to make sense though. (So weird, I know.) It doesn't make sense that if we keep just repeating these exact same steps, one of these times, it'll stick. There has to be something happening. Or not happening. What is it? How can I fix it?
Some people say, have sex more. Seems logical. Other people say, have sex less; you don't want to lower sperm counts. Thus, in the words of Liz Lemon, blerg.
Some people tell me, just relax. As soon as you stop thinking about it, it'll happen. Well, that's sort of true. I'm sure it would help my chances if I could just chill out. Stress can delay ovulation; it can make me feel like doing anything but have sex; and who knows what other physiological effects it may have. But at the same time, we've gotta time it right, and I won't know if we're timing it right unless I'm keeping track. And I simply don't know how to keep track without growing mildly obsessive.
So here's my plan for November. I'm getting out of Dodge. I'm taking Philip with me. For three nights, we're leaving behind work, responsibilities, fertility charts and OPKs. We're staying in a rental villa on an island in Florida, one that has a nice bed. We've timed the trip around my best guess at when I'll ovulate, but we're just going to be intimate when the mood strikes -- no happy faces, no thermometers, no carefully noting the consistency of my cervical fluid.
I just had to change it up this month; I was starting to feel insane.
Monday, November 07, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
THE DOCTOR IS IN
I have been trying to follow my sister-in-law's advice from my last post, which I summarize as: Do everything. Keep trying. Keep traveling. Keep having fun. Keep trusting God. And go to the doctor.
I was due for my annual check-up at the OBGYN, but I had been debating about whether or not to inquire about fertility testing when I went in for my appointment. It seemed a bit like jumping the gun, or to be really Bible-y about it, pulling an Abraham and taking matters into my own hands (minus the sleeping-with-the-help thing). To wit, we've only* been trying in earnestness for five months.
On the other hand, we've been off of any form of birth control for 13 months, and during the first half of that time period, we used the "fertility awareness method" as contraception with progressively less vigilance each month.
I took Sara's nudge as my green light. After all, she's a sonographer, so she deals with this kind of thing all the time. So I called the OB and scheduled an annual exam, plus a fertility consultation.
Let's just be honest: Going to the OB for a pap smear is the absolute pits. I'd almost rather have a tooth drilled. You're given a piece of paper to wear while the doctor cranks open your hoo-ha with a cold metal tool. Now I was adding to that experience a conversation about the dreaded i word -- infertility. (I just shuddered. It's worse than uttering "Voldemort.")
The anticipation of the appointment was actually much worse than the appointment itself. My doctor is very professional, and her office is very clean and inviting. The fertility consultation took all of three minutes. She was skeptical about starting testing ("We usually tell couples to try for a year"), but agreed to it when I meekly said I was ready to start getting some answers. I also pulled the "I'm over 30" card, which I think tipped the balance.
The first step was coming in for a pelvic ultrasound, which they perform there in the office. She would meet with me right afterward to discuss the scans. I scheduled the appointment for a week later.
Again, I anticipated the appointment with dread. The sonogram was vaginal, and what would that be like? And how would I react if there was something wrong? Lauren asked me what I hoped the results would be. "Well ..." I thought for a minute. "I hope there's something super minor wrong that can be easily fixed with some meds."
The morning of the appointment, I spent extra time getting ready. Full makeup, full hair, nice outfit. I looked very put-together, to cover up the fact that inside I was a big gross twisted knot. A pregnant girl (yes, "girl," not woman) sat across from me in the waiting room. She was holding a teddy bear the doctor's office had given her, and she was filling out forms with cute pink sketches of babies all over them. Do not fall apart, I ordered myself, blinking back tears and swallowing a lump of irrational rage.
First came a urine sample, then the ultrasound, which was way easier than the pap. We took a look at my insides, which actually makes for pretty riveting TV. There was my uterus, looking like a half-inflated whoopie cushion. There was one ovary. There was the other. I allowed myself one self-pitiful moment of wishing we were looking at a fetus. "Good luck!" chirped the sonographer as she exited the room after finishing.
Back out to the waiting room to wait for my OB. Pregnant Girl was gone. Good. Then back to a treatment room. I read half of a month-old issue of People while I waited, heart pounding.
Finally Dr. Danna entered. "Well," she announced, "everything was normal with your pap. And the ultrasound looks good too -- normal-sized uterus, normal-sized ovaries; the uterine walls are the right thickness." She also said something about a cyst that was consistent with ovulation, meaning I had ovulated -- something I already knew, but it was still gratifying to hear.
She encouraged me to have Philip tested, and she gave me the name of a reproductive specialist to call. She said something twice about "establishing myself" with them, which I didn't love; I don't want to become a fixture with those people. But whatever. Next step would be to have the specialist draw blood to check my hormones.
I left MASSIVELY relieved. I was wrong about what I told Lauren -- it was way better to hear that everything is fine. Once again, the appointment itself had been way less of a deal than worrying about it.
Now I've decided to give the testing route a rest for a couple of weeks. We'll know soon enough if we were successful this month, and I'm trying to keep my emotions in check. Two doctor's appointments in one month is enough for my fragile psyche. It's still possible that nothing whatsoever is wrong with me or Philip, and I'm not ready to fully concede to the i word just yet.
*When people say to me that it's "only" been five months, I have to restrain myself from ripping their heads off, as each month feels like an eternity when you're unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant.
I was due for my annual check-up at the OBGYN, but I had been debating about whether or not to inquire about fertility testing when I went in for my appointment. It seemed a bit like jumping the gun, or to be really Bible-y about it, pulling an Abraham and taking matters into my own hands (minus the sleeping-with-the-help thing). To wit, we've only* been trying in earnestness for five months.
On the other hand, we've been off of any form of birth control for 13 months, and during the first half of that time period, we used the "fertility awareness method" as contraception with progressively less vigilance each month.
I took Sara's nudge as my green light. After all, she's a sonographer, so she deals with this kind of thing all the time. So I called the OB and scheduled an annual exam, plus a fertility consultation.
Let's just be honest: Going to the OB for a pap smear is the absolute pits. I'd almost rather have a tooth drilled. You're given a piece of paper to wear while the doctor cranks open your hoo-ha with a cold metal tool. Now I was adding to that experience a conversation about the dreaded i word -- infertility. (I just shuddered. It's worse than uttering "Voldemort.")
The anticipation of the appointment was actually much worse than the appointment itself. My doctor is very professional, and her office is very clean and inviting. The fertility consultation took all of three minutes. She was skeptical about starting testing ("We usually tell couples to try for a year"), but agreed to it when I meekly said I was ready to start getting some answers. I also pulled the "I'm over 30" card, which I think tipped the balance.
The first step was coming in for a pelvic ultrasound, which they perform there in the office. She would meet with me right afterward to discuss the scans. I scheduled the appointment for a week later.
Again, I anticipated the appointment with dread. The sonogram was vaginal, and what would that be like? And how would I react if there was something wrong? Lauren asked me what I hoped the results would be. "Well ..." I thought for a minute. "I hope there's something super minor wrong that can be easily fixed with some meds."
The morning of the appointment, I spent extra time getting ready. Full makeup, full hair, nice outfit. I looked very put-together, to cover up the fact that inside I was a big gross twisted knot. A pregnant girl (yes, "girl," not woman) sat across from me in the waiting room. She was holding a teddy bear the doctor's office had given her, and she was filling out forms with cute pink sketches of babies all over them. Do not fall apart, I ordered myself, blinking back tears and swallowing a lump of irrational rage.
First came a urine sample, then the ultrasound, which was way easier than the pap. We took a look at my insides, which actually makes for pretty riveting TV. There was my uterus, looking like a half-inflated whoopie cushion. There was one ovary. There was the other. I allowed myself one self-pitiful moment of wishing we were looking at a fetus. "Good luck!" chirped the sonographer as she exited the room after finishing.
Back out to the waiting room to wait for my OB. Pregnant Girl was gone. Good. Then back to a treatment room. I read half of a month-old issue of People while I waited, heart pounding.
Finally Dr. Danna entered. "Well," she announced, "everything was normal with your pap. And the ultrasound looks good too -- normal-sized uterus, normal-sized ovaries; the uterine walls are the right thickness." She also said something about a cyst that was consistent with ovulation, meaning I had ovulated -- something I already knew, but it was still gratifying to hear.
She encouraged me to have Philip tested, and she gave me the name of a reproductive specialist to call. She said something twice about "establishing myself" with them, which I didn't love; I don't want to become a fixture with those people. But whatever. Next step would be to have the specialist draw blood to check my hormones.
I left MASSIVELY relieved. I was wrong about what I told Lauren -- it was way better to hear that everything is fine. Once again, the appointment itself had been way less of a deal than worrying about it.
Now I've decided to give the testing route a rest for a couple of weeks. We'll know soon enough if we were successful this month, and I'm trying to keep my emotions in check. Two doctor's appointments in one month is enough for my fragile psyche. It's still possible that nothing whatsoever is wrong with me or Philip, and I'm not ready to fully concede to the i word just yet.
*When people say to me that it's "only" been five months, I have to restrain myself from ripping their heads off, as each month feels like an eternity when you're unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant.
Monday, September 26, 2011
FIVE MONTHS
Erika,
_____________________________________________________________________________
Sara
I'm thinking of you guys tonight at work. I just scanned a
woman who is 7 weeks pregnant with twins. She and her husband are in
the ER because she has vaginal bleeding. They have been trying to get
pregnant for two years. They are emotionally drained as they have been
on a roller coaster over the last two years and, especially, today as
they fear miscarriage. Watching their raw emotions broke my heart. I
actually struggled not to cry while scanning them and listening to their
tears, fears, and the husband's sweet whispered support. I'm not sure
that the babies are going to make it, but I am praying for them. I am
praying for you guys too. I hope that your journey to parenthood is
short and without complications, despite your current frustration.
love you guys,
Sara
_____________________________________________________________________________
Sara, your message really means a lot to me -- thank you!
That is so sad about your patient. After the joy of finally conceiving
after all that time, I can't imagine the crushing blow that it must be
to fear that you're miscarrying. :(
I
really appreciate your prayers. I've started spotting, which means my
period is about to start, so I already had a good cry about that last
night. So we have been trying for five months now unsuccessfully. I
don't really know what to think ... Do I stop charting? Do I make an
appointment with the ob? Do we just keep on doing what we've been doing,
even though it hasn't been working? Do I stay hopeful? Do I let it go?
Do I just assume we aren't meant to have kids and start thinking about
future trips and other goals? Do I look into
adoption? Or am I completely overreacting, as they say 85 percent of
couples get pregnant within a year of trying? It is indeed very
draining.
Thank you again for your loving note.
XO,
E_____________________________________________________________________________
Erika, I
think that you should hang in there. Not everyone gets pregnant
immediately. Sometimes it does take time. I think that you should
continue to plan fun things for the two of you. Although you are trying,
you are not parents yet. You should still travel, be spontaneous, and
have all the parentless fun that you can. This is the season of life
that you are in now. Enjoy the present. In the future you will be
parents and that will be a whole new lifestyle. A different kind of fun.
Keep trying, but enjoy today or you are going to miss it completely.
Don't be shy with your doctor. At five months out, your doctor may not
be helpful or encouraging, but don't be scared to speak with him/her.
Ask what your options are. Ask if you can be referred to a specialist.
God will bless you with a baby in His time. Remember, His
time is very different from our time. Thankfully, His time is perfect.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
DEUS EX MASSAGE
Tonight I had my fourth massage by Danielle at Massage Envy. I have a membership there, a gift from Philip that makes me feel both supremely thankful and also pretty indulgent. But my close friend Audrey insists I keep making appointments there to take care of myself and keep my stress and anxiety at bay, as stress can delay ovulation, cause illness and in general prevent Philip and me from being in the mood to do that which we need to do to achieve our goal of getting pregnant.
I keep going back to Danielle because she's not only skilled at massage therapy, but she also struck me as being attentive from the first time she treated me. She found my trouble spots and, just from interpreting my muscle tension, was even able to deduce that I sit at a computer for a living.
As I drove to the appointment tonight, I thought about how I wanted to tell her Philip and I are trying to conceive, as maybe there's some specific technique she could use that might help. At the very least, I wanted to tell her I was under a higher-than-normal amount of stress lately and needed all her soothing powers to be in full force. But being shy, I didn't say a word.
During my other sessions with Danielle, we haven't spoken, which is how I like it. I just want to enjoy the massage and not be bothered. This time though, just a couple minutes into the massage, she asked me a strange question: "I feel like I know you from outside Massage Envy. Do you go to church anywhere?"
"My husband and I have been to Summit Church before," I responded through the hole in the face rest. "Have you heard of it?"
"Oh yeah," she said. "My husband and I go to the Plaza location."
Though we didn't ever figure out how we might have crossed paths outside the clinic, her question opened the door to a conversation that was even more life-giving than the massage. We talked about church and marriage and buying a house; she and her husband of less than a year are closing on a place this Friday. Then she asked me directly, "Do you have kids?"
"No," I said. "We're trying. It's so stressful."
"Yeah," she said with genuine sympathy. "How long have you been trying?"
"Four months," I answered.
"That's not that long."
"Yeah, but it feels like forever."
"I'm sure," she said reassuringly. "I recommend that you keep getting massages as often as you can. They stimulate blood flow and help with relaxation."
"Yes, ma'am!" I joked.
I told her about Toni Weschler's book, Taking Charge of your Fertility, and how I'd been off birth control and charting for more than a year. I explained OPKs and asked her about acupuncture. We discussed the documentary The Business of Being Born and birthing-center versus hospital births and my friends' various experiences with both. And she shared with me about being present recently as her sister was in labor; Danielle was there massaging her in the delivery room.
Then I shared with her about how Philip and I had been quarreling because of the stress of trying to conceive, about how it was much harder than I had anticipated. I said praying every morning was a lifeline, and I was trying to trust God. She immediately affirmed me. "Yes, He is in control, despite how often we try to plan everything out, and His timing is often different from ours. But you can trust Him to know what's best."
Let's all just pause for a moment and remember that I'm face-down on a massage table talking to someone whose previous words to me hadn't gone beyond, "How's the pressure?" Given our unique circumstances, I received Danielle's words as a simple reminder from above, and coming from her open heart, they didn't sound trite in the slightest.
Danielle was so kind and encouraging, so interested and compassionate. I felt a true emotional connection with her and was so uplifted by her listening ear. When the massage was over and she stepped out of the room so I could dress, I laid on the massage table and welled up a little; a wave washed over my spirit that said, "This is Me, showing you how much I love you, child." I am often confused by the Bible and feel uncomfortable with evangelicalism, but I can't deny these personal experiences with God, where it feels like he comes down out of heaven and dwells, of all places, in a treatment room of a massage clinic.
As I was leaving, Danielle said, "I'll be praying for you! I look forward to your next appointment to find out what happened!" I am just so ridiculously blessed.
I keep going back to Danielle because she's not only skilled at massage therapy, but she also struck me as being attentive from the first time she treated me. She found my trouble spots and, just from interpreting my muscle tension, was even able to deduce that I sit at a computer for a living.
As I drove to the appointment tonight, I thought about how I wanted to tell her Philip and I are trying to conceive, as maybe there's some specific technique she could use that might help. At the very least, I wanted to tell her I was under a higher-than-normal amount of stress lately and needed all her soothing powers to be in full force. But being shy, I didn't say a word.
During my other sessions with Danielle, we haven't spoken, which is how I like it. I just want to enjoy the massage and not be bothered. This time though, just a couple minutes into the massage, she asked me a strange question: "I feel like I know you from outside Massage Envy. Do you go to church anywhere?"
"My husband and I have been to Summit Church before," I responded through the hole in the face rest. "Have you heard of it?"
"Oh yeah," she said. "My husband and I go to the Plaza location."
Though we didn't ever figure out how we might have crossed paths outside the clinic, her question opened the door to a conversation that was even more life-giving than the massage. We talked about church and marriage and buying a house; she and her husband of less than a year are closing on a place this Friday. Then she asked me directly, "Do you have kids?"
"No," I said. "We're trying. It's so stressful."
"Yeah," she said with genuine sympathy. "How long have you been trying?"
"Four months," I answered.
"That's not that long."
"Yeah, but it feels like forever."
"I'm sure," she said reassuringly. "I recommend that you keep getting massages as often as you can. They stimulate blood flow and help with relaxation."
"Yes, ma'am!" I joked.
I told her about Toni Weschler's book, Taking Charge of your Fertility, and how I'd been off birth control and charting for more than a year. I explained OPKs and asked her about acupuncture. We discussed the documentary The Business of Being Born and birthing-center versus hospital births and my friends' various experiences with both. And she shared with me about being present recently as her sister was in labor; Danielle was there massaging her in the delivery room.
Then I shared with her about how Philip and I had been quarreling because of the stress of trying to conceive, about how it was much harder than I had anticipated. I said praying every morning was a lifeline, and I was trying to trust God. She immediately affirmed me. "Yes, He is in control, despite how often we try to plan everything out, and His timing is often different from ours. But you can trust Him to know what's best."
Let's all just pause for a moment and remember that I'm face-down on a massage table talking to someone whose previous words to me hadn't gone beyond, "How's the pressure?" Given our unique circumstances, I received Danielle's words as a simple reminder from above, and coming from her open heart, they didn't sound trite in the slightest.
Danielle was so kind and encouraging, so interested and compassionate. I felt a true emotional connection with her and was so uplifted by her listening ear. When the massage was over and she stepped out of the room so I could dress, I laid on the massage table and welled up a little; a wave washed over my spirit that said, "This is Me, showing you how much I love you, child." I am often confused by the Bible and feel uncomfortable with evangelicalism, but I can't deny these personal experiences with God, where it feels like he comes down out of heaven and dwells, of all places, in a treatment room of a massage clinic.
As I was leaving, Danielle said, "I'll be praying for you! I look forward to your next appointment to find out what happened!" I am just so ridiculously blessed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)