Down the Rabbit-Hole

"The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.


Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next." - Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll


To those of you reading this, I want to apologize for my long absence from the blog. I had fallen into a pretty rough spot, and was really struggling to even just drag myself out of bed in the morning. I was feeling short tempered, whiny and miserable, and felt like I was annoying everyone around me with my mood. I didn't want to get out bed in the morning. I didn't want to go to work. I didn't want to do anything when I got to work. I was grouchy when people asked me to do things. I didn't even care if I lost my job because of my attitude or performance. I was achy and tired and deflated. I was almost constantly snarky to IvoryBoy, unreceptive to intimacy, lazy about cleaning the apartment and I have no idea how he put up with it, but so grateful that he didn't kick me out. (ha ha)  I could see this all happening, and couldn't stop it. I felt completely powerless over the world around me, and the things that would set me off seemed to change daily.
 
So I talked to my therapist about it all, and she seemed to think that it might be really severe PMS as my body tried to adapt to the change in hormones, both toward the end of the science experiment phase 1, and once we started the break from it. Her suggestion was to try an SSRI as a treatment for PMS. Since she's a clinical psychcologist and not able to prescribe meds, she directed me to discuss it with my GP. I mulled that over for a couple of weeks before actually calling my GP to make an appointment. Finally I had an epiphany (for lack of a better word) that I don't have to feel like that.

So I went in to talk to my GP, and he asked me a lot of questions and we talked for a while, and finally he said "It sounds like you've been battling depression for a long time. Is this the first time you've considered medication?" And I laughed and said "I didn't know I was really depressed." I always thought I was just a shy, angsty teenager, who grew up into a less shy, more angsty adult. I thought it was just my hormones wreaking havoc on my moods. I thought I just needed to try harder to deal with things. (I'm actually very hard on myself, and expect myself to have superhuman patience and coping skills.) So I decided, so much for the break from the meds... I started taking Zoloft, and it definitely is helping me to feel a bit more normal. Or calmer anyway. So it's worth it.

Examples of how it's helping:
1) Last year when I was writing report cards for my hebrew school classes, I broke down in tears no less than 3 times from the stress of trying to evaluate students without repeating comments for multiple students because my principal apparently hates it. I don't know firsthand that she hates it, only that she complained to another teacher about my comments. Nice, right? Well this time, I was calm and did not stress about the fact that I didn't get them from the school administrator until 3 days before they were due. I just did my best, worked slowly and calmly, and handed them in 2 weeks late. IvoryBoy said "Wow, that Zoloft is working!"
2) Seven (not exaggerating) friends and family members are all pregnant and due in late July or August. I am happy for them. I haven't cried about it, and have made jokes about not getting the memo. "Wow, that Zoloft is working!"

So I'm taking this one day at a time. Working on feeling more human, more like my old self. Trying to get back to the happy place IvoryBoy and I had. Now if only I could get myself motivated about exercising!

Stranger in a Strange land

Finding myself without my regular "poke-n-prod" appointments has been... well, odd. But relaxing too.

It's been so strange to find myself thinking about normal things. About the world beyond my uterus. When you're infertile, and TTC, you lose some of yourself. And I'm not just talking about vials of blood, or your sense of modesty. There's always the shadow of your fertility struggle looming over every thought, and action. You end up feeling like your own evil twin, or a "reasonable hand-drawn facsimilie." You try to think about the greater world, but the stress, anxiety and sadness pushes you back into the hormone-clouded bubble. You forget what life felt like before you became so hypersensitive.

But... without the drugs in my system, I'm starting to feel almost human again. I can sleep through the night without waking up drenched in sweat. I can concentrate on my work... well, at least as much as I ever could. I can be intimate with my husband without worrying about laying perfectly still afterward, or praying that it will work this time. We can be intimate when we feel like it, and we do feel like it. I never realized how different making love and making a baby were.

Without the drugs in my system, I feel like I'm learning how to be myself again. It feels strange, but good. I'm glad I'm taking this time for myself, to recover from how hard these last couple of years have been, and to prepare myself for the next part of the fight.

It's a Long Way Down

As I prepare for my 3rd IUI, I'm sitting here, not feeling excited or nervous, optimistic or encouraged, but miserable. Just plain miserable. I'm feeling rather down in the dumps lately, in general. Starting this 7th round of Clomid, I've felt the effects to be more intense, more acute, more difficult for others to be around me. I just feel so discouraged by the process. I wonder how much of this has to do with coming up on the 2nd anniversary of my 2nd miscarriage? I cried during Rosh Hashanah services, when they read the Story of Hannah, wife of Elkanah, mother of Samuel. It's like picking a scab. You think it's healed over, and then it starts bleeding as if it just happened.

It may not seem like it today, but I'm really trying not to let this get me down. I am wallowing in a rather viscous lake of self-pity which is making me particularly horrible to my friends, family and co-workers. I feel as if this self-pity, almost self-loathing, is a stinking slime seeping from my pores. I am so far from the person I was before I miscarried. Before I began this difficult journey of infertility treatments. The drugs make me feel like I'm watching someone else, maybe my evil twin, bark at people, and rant and rave, thinking "Oh that's horrible, why can't she just take a breath and look at this objectively?" She doesn't have an objective view-point to see things from. Perception is reality, after all. This ShadowGirl version of myself is angry and jealous, mostly angry, and can't get past her fear and pain about having to go through this to remember why we're doing this.

It'll be just like Starting Over

IvoryBoy and I went for a consultation today with the reproductive endocrinologist. He feels that we're on the right track and should do at least two more Clomid cycles before considering IVF. He feels that with my PCOS, and the fact that I am responding to the Clomid favorably, that injectibles would pose too high a risk of multiples. I'm ok with the idea of twins, but I don't want my own reality show, thankyouverymuch. And I don't really want to be in a position where I have to figure out how I feel about selective reduction. I appreciate that they're concerned with avoiding quadruplets or more. Makes me wonder how Kate Gosselin or Octomom talked their doctors into allowing them to risk carrying whole litters of babies.

So I started my next round of clomid tonight, (Lucky everyone around me, getting to see mood-swinging-hot-flashing-IvoryGirl after a short hiatus) and then we'll do an IUI in about 10-12 days. I'm feeling pretty well rested from having that time off from our previous attempts. Hopefully that will help me to stay positive through this cycle. That and my sweet IvoryBoy, who keeps reminding me how much he loves me, and showing his support through it all. Even with all of this, I'm a very lucky girl.

Waiting is the Hardest Part

If I don't get my period before Friday, I'll be going for a pregnancy blood test. As I've said before, that's sort of feeling scary right now. I keep feeling cramps, and soreness in my boobs, and slight nausea, just like I've felt every month that we've been doing this. I keep thinking "Maybe this time it's working." It's so hard to concentrate at work, or even at home on anything. I've been reading, trying to keep my brain too busy to think about it. I just have to get through 4 days (well, 3 1/2 now...)
And why does time seem to go by so much slower when you're waiting for something really important like this?

Last dose of Clomid

That's right - I just had my last dose of Clomid for this cycle. Now we wait. On Friday, I go for my next round of blood work and sonogram. They'll let me know when to inject the Ovadrel either Friday or Monday, depending on the progress of the follicles. Which reminds me that I didn't mention what happened on my Day 2 appointment. The Doctor doing the sonogram paused mid ovary-whap, said "Hmmm." clicked the mouse to measure some black circle on the screen (ovarian cyst??) and proceeded to remove and wipe off the wand. He said they'd call if there was a problem, but otherwise I was to start the Clomid that night. Ok. I was trying to remember that, and he left me to dress. When I left the room, he was nowhere in sight to ask about this mysterious circle. I called the office once I got to my office, and asked "Ok, what was that?"
It was an Ovarian cyst, but because my hormone levels were fine, they weren't concerned about it. So I started the Clomid, and as I mentioned up there, I finished taking that already.
It's probably being back on Clomid that's making me feel a bit nutty, but I was all sorts of freaked out about the cyst. How will that affect this cycle? How do the "black pearls" that I have affect my ability to release an egg? Do the "black pearls" heal?
SO I have a lot of questions for my doctor, obviously, but if anyone out there is reading this and has gone through this - do you know the answers?