Ah, Clomid. Clomid is a prescription medication that stimulates ovulation. There is a myriad of side effects that range from the tragic (mood swings) to the hilarious (mood swings). I don't really get much side effect action - though I do typically get a Clomid headache in the first two or three days on the stuff. Women with PCOS will not always respond to Clomid and it seems that I do not respond tremendously well. We get one follicle per administration of the maximum dosage (doesn't that seem like a really bad 80's garage glam band?Can't you picture three men with mustaches wearing hazy pink, skin tight jumpsuits with purple glitter bands across their waist and forehead shouting, "We're...Maximum...Dosage!" in poorly trained falsettos? Hot.) Most blogs that I skim for information often have women presenting two or three follicles in a given attempt. So my pitiful one is just sort of lame.
We may move to a different medication for the next round. When there is a next round - who knows, it could work this time!
The title of this post is misleading - there is no real adventure happening in Clomid land. You have to take the stuff the same time(ish) every night, so I have set an alarm on my phone. If you have an iPhone, you are aware of the duck quack alarm sound? I have named the alarm "Fertility Duck" and it quacks every night this week at 8:55 in evening! Hearing its cheerful little squawk adds some levity to an other wise slightly frustrating, nay, depressing event.
In other news, I got my hair cut. its a cute angled bob with a heavy fringe in the front. Its kind of adorable. And easy to style - I blow it out and just use a straightening iron on the front pieces to keep the curl at bay. Precious. You have to do things, I think, to remind yourself that everything is okay. Like buying a grill spontaneously one Sunday. Or visiting the Volunteers of America shop that just opened up because OMG I got never-been-used antique escargot dishes, guitar shaped ice cube trays (with guitar neck stirrers) and a sleazy thriller for under five dollars. It softens the headache.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Another day, another...day
Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could say it was another day, another wonderful, hope filled magical day full of joy and ponies and puppies? Wouldn't that be great if any of us could say that? But alas...today was not another wonderful, hope filled magical day and there was certainly little joy, no ponies and no puppies.
Let me break it down for you. The baby in the office. So there is this chick who popped out a spawnling nearly a year ago. She can't arrange appropriate child care, so she brings her baby to the office. I will willingly admit that he is a charming child - certainly not one to scream for hours on end. But the entire staff loses their collective minds every week when the BAYBEE!!! is in. Do you know what that is like for a woman who is struggling to have a child? To be reminded on a weekly basis that the BAYBEE is here and "why don't you come and visit the BAYBEE!!!???" It's like going to a family "July Fourth" weekend bash and having to see every one of your cousin's delightful little children. You know what that's like - you want to be happy but secretly you just want to curl up and cry? Except for me that reality comes every. fucking. week.
And I don't even get a slice of red, white, and blue cake at the end.
He's learning to walk. You know, the BAYBEE!! is learning to walk. So today he toddled his lovely little way over and smiled and cooed outside of my office while all the staff puppy piled outside the door. "Oh Laura," quoth one, "why don't you have a BAYBEE!!??" And I'm all, "Gee, let me stab you in the head and get back to you on that one."
I got home and picked a fight with my husband because I was so frustrated and angry. Now I am home alone listening to fuckers next store blast dubstep. Another day, another fucking day.
Let me break it down for you. The baby in the office. So there is this chick who popped out a spawnling nearly a year ago. She can't arrange appropriate child care, so she brings her baby to the office. I will willingly admit that he is a charming child - certainly not one to scream for hours on end. But the entire staff loses their collective minds every week when the BAYBEE!!! is in. Do you know what that is like for a woman who is struggling to have a child? To be reminded on a weekly basis that the BAYBEE is here and "why don't you come and visit the BAYBEE!!!???" It's like going to a family "July Fourth" weekend bash and having to see every one of your cousin's delightful little children. You know what that's like - you want to be happy but secretly you just want to curl up and cry? Except for me that reality comes every. fucking. week.
And I don't even get a slice of red, white, and blue cake at the end.
He's learning to walk. You know, the BAYBEE!! is learning to walk. So today he toddled his lovely little way over and smiled and cooed outside of my office while all the staff puppy piled outside the door. "Oh Laura," quoth one, "why don't you have a BAYBEE!!??" And I'm all, "Gee, let me stab you in the head and get back to you on that one."
I got home and picked a fight with my husband because I was so frustrated and angry. Now I am home alone listening to fuckers next store blast dubstep. Another day, another fucking day.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
If you want something done right...
...then you better do it yourself.
This is a blog of frustration. Mine and maybe yours. I don't know. See, when I go on the internet, I like to imagine that there are other people out there like me. People who are sifting through the Google results, searching for more news, more perspectives on infertility. People who are struggling and want to find a supportive voice in the din. But I have had some trouble finding me out there. I wanted to find a blog (that web published voice in the electronic darkness), but not just any blog. No, I had to make that one hard on myself. I wanted one that was updated with some regularity. It should be well written, a little funny, a tad sweet. Sympathetic to the uniquely painful, never uninteresting world of infertility. A journey through the myriad of emotions that not having a baby can bring to a person, a marriage, a life.
But here's the deal, yo. I can't find them. Oh sure, I can find infertility blogs. But the writers are often in a different space than I am. They currently have children and are trying to have another or they were once infertile and have now found success and have turned their blog into a pregnancy journal. Or they are infertile and have taken a break from medical intervention for any number of reasons. They stopped writing, or at least stopped writing things I want to read. So if you want to find yourself on the internet, guess you have to put yourself on the internet.
How terribly lonely.
Oh well, though. Here I am. My name is Laura and welcome to my world. I am twenty seven years old and my husband and I have been trying to conceive for about two years. We are working with a fertility center in Rochester, NY (land of ice and snow) and are currently on round four of our IUI journey. To be fair, I didn't ovulate in round one. So while technically round four, this will only be our third round of insemination. In any case, I have PCOS - or Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome. The man has a lowish count and high morphology (i.e. - his soldiers are warped...) The man and I have been married for four years. We have seen family, friends, coworkers and the like get pregnant and prepare for number two (or three!) while we are still aching for one. And let me tell you, that sucks. But I digress. I'll be checking in frequently with the whats and whens of our journey through infertility. And hopefully I'll make some friends. Or make a baby. Whichever one works first...
This is a blog of frustration. Mine and maybe yours. I don't know. See, when I go on the internet, I like to imagine that there are other people out there like me. People who are sifting through the Google results, searching for more news, more perspectives on infertility. People who are struggling and want to find a supportive voice in the din. But I have had some trouble finding me out there. I wanted to find a blog (that web published voice in the electronic darkness), but not just any blog. No, I had to make that one hard on myself. I wanted one that was updated with some regularity. It should be well written, a little funny, a tad sweet. Sympathetic to the uniquely painful, never uninteresting world of infertility. A journey through the myriad of emotions that not having a baby can bring to a person, a marriage, a life.
But here's the deal, yo. I can't find them. Oh sure, I can find infertility blogs. But the writers are often in a different space than I am. They currently have children and are trying to have another or they were once infertile and have now found success and have turned their blog into a pregnancy journal. Or they are infertile and have taken a break from medical intervention for any number of reasons. They stopped writing, or at least stopped writing things I want to read. So if you want to find yourself on the internet, guess you have to put yourself on the internet.
How terribly lonely.
Oh well, though. Here I am. My name is Laura and welcome to my world. I am twenty seven years old and my husband and I have been trying to conceive for about two years. We are working with a fertility center in Rochester, NY (land of ice and snow) and are currently on round four of our IUI journey. To be fair, I didn't ovulate in round one. So while technically round four, this will only be our third round of insemination. In any case, I have PCOS - or Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome. The man has a lowish count and high morphology (i.e. - his soldiers are warped...) The man and I have been married for four years. We have seen family, friends, coworkers and the like get pregnant and prepare for number two (or three!) while we are still aching for one. And let me tell you, that sucks. But I digress. I'll be checking in frequently with the whats and whens of our journey through infertility. And hopefully I'll make some friends. Or make a baby. Whichever one works first...
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