My mom, who through all of our trying to conceive, was just sure I needed to relax, to quit worrying about it, has finally come around to realizing it wasn't my stress level, and I wasn't crazy for being so sure something was wrong. She gets the truth of it all now -- that we're infertile.
Now she's very sensitive to hearing about other couples' struggles with infertility or journeys toward adoption or IVF, or whatever the case may be. A couple of weekends ago, she called me with news about a couple she met who had adopted a baby. She had gotten their contact information for me and assured me that the mother was more than happy to talk to me about the process.
Maybe this should make me more uncomfortable than it does, but I'm all for reaching out to others who have struggled with infertility, who have chosen one path over the other, who have taken the adoption route or the IVF route, or whatever. I'm all about making connections and learning from other people who have been there. As I've said many times, this is a very lonely road, so if talking with others who have been there makes it a little bit more bearable, then I'm goin' for it.
So I called this gal. Remember, though, that I've got IVF scheduled. It's happening in December. All of my focus should be on staying positive and getting ready for this life-changing procedure, right?
Why can I not just keep my focus on IVF??
Should I really be calling complete strangers that my mom talked to about adoption? Should I really even be thinking about that right now? Am I dooming my chances at IVF by not putting all of my figurative eggs in one basket? Does this mean I'm not totally committed to IVF? Does this mean I don't believe it will work?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions, and I am likely to drive myself nuts considering the possibilities if I dwell on them too long. But it all does make me wonder. Should I be less realistic and instead, more optimistic? Probably. And I'm working on it, but I haven't mastered it yet.
I'm incredibly aware that I essentially have a 50/50 shot at this. I think maybe my way of coping with this incredibly unsettling probability and my awareness of the fact that this very well may not work, is to keep my mind open to all of the other possibilities... Maybe my thinking is that if I keep investing myself into other options, if IVF doesn't work, I won't crash so hard knowing that there is a next step.
Really, though, I want to be excited. I want to truly anticipate our upcoming IVF and hope-hope-hope that it works. And I want to believe that it can work and that it will work. How do I convince myself of these things? How do I live in the moment?
I called that woman. And she talked with more for over an hour and was so kind and so supportive. And she, like all other women dealing with infertility, made me feel as though I'm in good company. She taught me a lot about the process and what to expect if we do go down that road. And she made me feel hopeful -- that one way or another, I will be a mother.
But right now my path is to see if I can achieve motherhood through IVF. I want to focus on that and only that. Does anyone have any tips? How do I put my blinders on and quit constantly considering the possibility that it won't work?
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
blogs.
Sometimes I get online to work on something that has a pressing deadline or to check my e-mail or to look something up, and I quickly find myself on infertility blogs. I seek them out because these blogs are written by people I can actually relate to. They're infertile too! They remind me that I'm not the only one, that my break-downs and my moodiness and my jealousy are all really normal for someone in my shoes. And I need that. Frequently.
Last night I should have been working on some statistics homework for a graduate class I'm in. I should have been. Instead I found myself on one of my favorite infertility blogs which then linked me to about seven new infertility blogs ... and I had to catch myself up on each of their stories. I found blogs specifically by women who were undergoing IVF or who had been. I found blogs by women in almost my exact same situation. And I did feel that I'm not alone, and it was comforting.
But then I got sad.
I'm in this three-month waiting period to begin my first IVF cycle. I'm taking a myriad of drugs to get my body ready before I start the actual IVF stim drugs. But mostly it just feels like waiting. It feels like prolonging the inevitable, and in many ways, I just want it to be here. Because I'm excited and nervous and terrified.
I read these stories by women who had been there, who had been through the entire IVF process. Some of them had been through it more than once. And many of them weren't successful.
I've been working so hard to stay positive about what lies ahead. I've been trying to stay out of my head and only think happy thoughts about this end result. I've started acupuncture and meditations to relax. I go running every morning to kind of physically rid myself of nerves.
But it's all still there. This might not work.
I read the blog of a woman who was starting her second IVF cycle. I went back and read through her first IVF journey, and it broke my heart. She wrote about how hard she was working at staying positive, she wrote about feeling like it was really working after her transfer, and then she came crashing down. And I could relate to every word in those entries, and I could see myself in her and my situation in hers. It reminded me there are two sides to what's coming up -- a life-changing happiness and joy and an earth-shattering despair and depression. Sounds dramatic, maybe, but I don't think it is. And I will only experience one or the other.
I'm sinking everything I've got -- emotionally, physically, spiritually, financially -- into this hopeful attempt. I just don't want to be let down.
And so, while I know that reading these blogs has helped me tremendously in feeling less alone, and they've really educated me about my options and the different processes people pursue, sometimes they just make me sad. I decided, in last night's funk, to go to bed early and hope that I would wake up this morning feeling a little more optimistic.
A night's sleep is magical. But I wake up every morning acutely aware of all of the possibilities. I suppose no blog will change that fact, so I will keep reading. It's better to avoid the loneliness.
Last night I should have been working on some statistics homework for a graduate class I'm in. I should have been. Instead I found myself on one of my favorite infertility blogs which then linked me to about seven new infertility blogs ... and I had to catch myself up on each of their stories. I found blogs specifically by women who were undergoing IVF or who had been. I found blogs by women in almost my exact same situation. And I did feel that I'm not alone, and it was comforting.
But then I got sad.
I'm in this three-month waiting period to begin my first IVF cycle. I'm taking a myriad of drugs to get my body ready before I start the actual IVF stim drugs. But mostly it just feels like waiting. It feels like prolonging the inevitable, and in many ways, I just want it to be here. Because I'm excited and nervous and terrified.
I read these stories by women who had been there, who had been through the entire IVF process. Some of them had been through it more than once. And many of them weren't successful.
I've been working so hard to stay positive about what lies ahead. I've been trying to stay out of my head and only think happy thoughts about this end result. I've started acupuncture and meditations to relax. I go running every morning to kind of physically rid myself of nerves.
But it's all still there. This might not work.
I read the blog of a woman who was starting her second IVF cycle. I went back and read through her first IVF journey, and it broke my heart. She wrote about how hard she was working at staying positive, she wrote about feeling like it was really working after her transfer, and then she came crashing down. And I could relate to every word in those entries, and I could see myself in her and my situation in hers. It reminded me there are two sides to what's coming up -- a life-changing happiness and joy and an earth-shattering despair and depression. Sounds dramatic, maybe, but I don't think it is. And I will only experience one or the other.
I'm sinking everything I've got -- emotionally, physically, spiritually, financially -- into this hopeful attempt. I just don't want to be let down.
And so, while I know that reading these blogs has helped me tremendously in feeling less alone, and they've really educated me about my options and the different processes people pursue, sometimes they just make me sad. I decided, in last night's funk, to go to bed early and hope that I would wake up this morning feeling a little more optimistic.
A night's sleep is magical. But I wake up every morning acutely aware of all of the possibilities. I suppose no blog will change that fact, so I will keep reading. It's better to avoid the loneliness.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
someone else's baby.
We went to some friends' for dinner tonight. The husband is in my husband's class in the Optometry program, and the wife is a friend from a former job (and because our husbands are friends).
The wife and I have known each other for about two and a half years now. When we first met, we were both in the midst of strong baby desires. We were fighting them off because our husbands were just beginning their four-year programs, but we both admitted we couldn't help but hope we'd have babies in the near future. We talked fantasies constantly at work (our offices were joined by a doorway) -- baby names, pregnancy, birth plans, doulas, baby showers, announcements, etc. Everything.
Her older sister had endured struggles with infertility for three years or so and had basically been told there was nothing more they could try if they weren't interested in attempting IVF. She wasn't. The wife and I used to talk about our sympathy for her sister and brother-in-law. How awful it would be to know you couldn't have your own children. How hard on a marriage. How difficult to have to abandon your biggest dream.
Funny looking back.
My husband and I began trying during this time, and although I was acutely aware of the possibility of infertility, I told myself I'd be pregnant very soon. I didn't tell a single soul we were trying. No one. I wanted it to be our secret, and I wanted our joy to be private when it worked.
Instead, though, our friends got pregnant. First try.
We had only been trying five or six months, so even though I was jealous, I thought our turn was just around the corner. But it wasn't. I watched her pregnancy. I went to her baby shower. I met her sweet daughter at the hospital the day after delivery.
And tonight I held the six-month-old baby girl. I've held her dozens of time in the months since she was born. But tonight I touched the bottoms of her feet. I squeezed her little thighs. We nuzzled our heads together. And I imagined, for just half a second, what it might feel like to experience all of that -- to make those observations -- with my own baby, whether it be biological or adopted. My baby.
It was one of those moments that stops your heart for just a moment. I frequently get those glimpses, and when I do, I can't even distinguish whether they make me happy or sad.
Probably both.
The wife and I have known each other for about two and a half years now. When we first met, we were both in the midst of strong baby desires. We were fighting them off because our husbands were just beginning their four-year programs, but we both admitted we couldn't help but hope we'd have babies in the near future. We talked fantasies constantly at work (our offices were joined by a doorway) -- baby names, pregnancy, birth plans, doulas, baby showers, announcements, etc. Everything.
Her older sister had endured struggles with infertility for three years or so and had basically been told there was nothing more they could try if they weren't interested in attempting IVF. She wasn't. The wife and I used to talk about our sympathy for her sister and brother-in-law. How awful it would be to know you couldn't have your own children. How hard on a marriage. How difficult to have to abandon your biggest dream.
Funny looking back.
My husband and I began trying during this time, and although I was acutely aware of the possibility of infertility, I told myself I'd be pregnant very soon. I didn't tell a single soul we were trying. No one. I wanted it to be our secret, and I wanted our joy to be private when it worked.
Instead, though, our friends got pregnant. First try.
We had only been trying five or six months, so even though I was jealous, I thought our turn was just around the corner. But it wasn't. I watched her pregnancy. I went to her baby shower. I met her sweet daughter at the hospital the day after delivery.
And tonight I held the six-month-old baby girl. I've held her dozens of time in the months since she was born. But tonight I touched the bottoms of her feet. I squeezed her little thighs. We nuzzled our heads together. And I imagined, for just half a second, what it might feel like to experience all of that -- to make those observations -- with my own baby, whether it be biological or adopted. My baby.
It was one of those moments that stops your heart for just a moment. I frequently get those glimpses, and when I do, I can't even distinguish whether they make me happy or sad.
Probably both.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
do what you gotta do.
As we enter this less-than-three-months wait period before we begin IVF, my husband and I are really committing to being as healthy as possible. It takes about three months for an egg to mature and for sperm to develop, so it's important that in the three months leading up to an in vitro treatment the couple do what they can to make healthy, nutritious choices.
There's really no explanation for why one IVF cycle works and another doesn't. Just like there's no explanation for why a girl who uses recreational drugs, eats only processed foods, and hasn't exercised in years gets pregnant ASAP while a fit and healthy girl struggles with infertility. Sometimes I feel ridiculous for going to extremes in trying to be as healthy as possible -- devotion to daily exercise, lots of fruits and vegetables, not a drop of alcohol, not a drop of caffeine, etc. -- for a perceived better shot at pregnancy. I mean, can that really make a difference? We've all been to WalMart, and everyone seems pretty fertile there... In fact, most of my friends, family, and acquaintances haven't even had to consider their fitness level or diet habits and have gotten pregnant no problem.
I don't know why any of this works the way it does. What I do know is that there is so much working against me that is completely out of my control. If I can focus on the things I can control and make healthy choices for my body and my mental/emotional/spiritual wellbeing, then I should. Because what's it going to hurt?
At the end of this process, I will either have a baby or a negative result. If I am so fortunate as to be pregnant, I want to know that I made really smart choices for my baby and me and that I've created an environment that will hopefully be as healthy as possible for my child. If I don't come out of this pregnant, I need to know that I did everything I could. I don't want to end up obsessing over the choices I made and what they might have meant for the outcome.
So that's what I have in mind when I make choices each day. That doesn't mean I don't eat anything I actually like, because I do. But I try to eat a lot of fresh fruits and veggies, organic eggs, whole grains, and good proteins. I allow myself to indulge in ice cream (because this isn't a time to lose weight), but I choose ice creams that use only natural ingredients. I don't drink alcohol. Not at all. I refuse caffeine and instead drink a lot of water. I go for runs and walks daily. And I feel really good for all of these reasons.
My next step in doing all that I can to help this IVF stuff work is to see an acupuncturist. I've read a lot of articles and studies that link IVF successes and acupuncture. Do people get pregnant after IVF if they haven't used acupuncture? Sure. Do some people go the acupuncture route and not get pregnant? Definitely. But I'm going to try it. And if nothing else, I hope I get some quality relaxation and mind-clearing quiet out of the deal.
I'm going to do what I can to put myself in the best possible situation for in vitro to work. It's all I want, so I'm not going to waste my shot at this.
Here's to hoping it works.
There's really no explanation for why one IVF cycle works and another doesn't. Just like there's no explanation for why a girl who uses recreational drugs, eats only processed foods, and hasn't exercised in years gets pregnant ASAP while a fit and healthy girl struggles with infertility. Sometimes I feel ridiculous for going to extremes in trying to be as healthy as possible -- devotion to daily exercise, lots of fruits and vegetables, not a drop of alcohol, not a drop of caffeine, etc. -- for a perceived better shot at pregnancy. I mean, can that really make a difference? We've all been to WalMart, and everyone seems pretty fertile there... In fact, most of my friends, family, and acquaintances haven't even had to consider their fitness level or diet habits and have gotten pregnant no problem.
I don't know why any of this works the way it does. What I do know is that there is so much working against me that is completely out of my control. If I can focus on the things I can control and make healthy choices for my body and my mental/emotional/spiritual wellbeing, then I should. Because what's it going to hurt?
At the end of this process, I will either have a baby or a negative result. If I am so fortunate as to be pregnant, I want to know that I made really smart choices for my baby and me and that I've created an environment that will hopefully be as healthy as possible for my child. If I don't come out of this pregnant, I need to know that I did everything I could. I don't want to end up obsessing over the choices I made and what they might have meant for the outcome.
So that's what I have in mind when I make choices each day. That doesn't mean I don't eat anything I actually like, because I do. But I try to eat a lot of fresh fruits and veggies, organic eggs, whole grains, and good proteins. I allow myself to indulge in ice cream (because this isn't a time to lose weight), but I choose ice creams that use only natural ingredients. I don't drink alcohol. Not at all. I refuse caffeine and instead drink a lot of water. I go for runs and walks daily. And I feel really good for all of these reasons.
My next step in doing all that I can to help this IVF stuff work is to see an acupuncturist. I've read a lot of articles and studies that link IVF successes and acupuncture. Do people get pregnant after IVF if they haven't used acupuncture? Sure. Do some people go the acupuncture route and not get pregnant? Definitely. But I'm going to try it. And if nothing else, I hope I get some quality relaxation and mind-clearing quiet out of the deal.
I'm going to do what I can to put myself in the best possible situation for in vitro to work. It's all I want, so I'm not going to waste my shot at this.
Here's to hoping it works.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
too much.
I've really been doing well lately. Trying to stay positive; trying not to stress too much about our situation.
But then something happens that just sends you over the edge, and suddenly you're not doing so well anymore.
My husband and I are both infertile. (More on his situation in a post to-come.) Back in May, my RE wanted to do a semen analysis, you know, just to make sure we didn't also have to worry about my husband's fertility. So they did one. It came back that he has a severely low sperm count, poor motility, and poor morphology. We were devastated. The doctor's next step was to have my husband come in immediately for blood work and a karyotype (map of chromosomes) to help rule out any easy --- or difficult, I suppose, considering the chromosomes... -- fixes. All of this was submitted to insurance.
On Saturday we got home from picking up my vehicle from the service department at the dealership. We had just written a check for $1,100 for its repairs when I checked our mail. There was a bill from the hospital my RE works with. Four months later.
$1,400.
That's what we owe for my husband's blood work. Did I mention his blood work didn't reveal any easy fixes? It didn't reveal anything abnormal at all. It gave no new information.
$1,400. A giant fucking reminder of our infertility. A reminder of how much this is financially costing us in addition to the physical, mental, and emotional tolls.
$1,400. A bill we can't afford. And we haven't even started IVF yet.
We have already spent thousands. We still don't have our baby. So I broke down... Because I was reminded of how much we have already been through and how little we have to show for it. Because I'm tired, and we're broke, and this isn't easy. Because I need to stay strong and positive as we enter this next phase -- this phase where we have our best and only chance at this, but I'm not sure if I can.
And then I got over it. It's $1,400, but it's only money, right? It might be money I don't have, but someday I will, and when I have my baby, I won't think for a second about this stupid bill.
I just need my baby.
But then something happens that just sends you over the edge, and suddenly you're not doing so well anymore.
My husband and I are both infertile. (More on his situation in a post to-come.) Back in May, my RE wanted to do a semen analysis, you know, just to make sure we didn't also have to worry about my husband's fertility. So they did one. It came back that he has a severely low sperm count, poor motility, and poor morphology. We were devastated. The doctor's next step was to have my husband come in immediately for blood work and a karyotype (map of chromosomes) to help rule out any easy --- or difficult, I suppose, considering the chromosomes... -- fixes. All of this was submitted to insurance.
On Saturday we got home from picking up my vehicle from the service department at the dealership. We had just written a check for $1,100 for its repairs when I checked our mail. There was a bill from the hospital my RE works with. Four months later.
$1,400.
That's what we owe for my husband's blood work. Did I mention his blood work didn't reveal any easy fixes? It didn't reveal anything abnormal at all. It gave no new information.
$1,400. A giant fucking reminder of our infertility. A reminder of how much this is financially costing us in addition to the physical, mental, and emotional tolls.
$1,400. A bill we can't afford. And we haven't even started IVF yet.
We have already spent thousands. We still don't have our baby. So I broke down... Because I was reminded of how much we have already been through and how little we have to show for it. Because I'm tired, and we're broke, and this isn't easy. Because I need to stay strong and positive as we enter this next phase -- this phase where we have our best and only chance at this, but I'm not sure if I can.
And then I got over it. It's $1,400, but it's only money, right? It might be money I don't have, but someday I will, and when I have my baby, I won't think for a second about this stupid bill.
I just need my baby.
Friday, September 6, 2013
fyi: pcos.
My other major fertility issue is polycystic ovary syndrome, commonly referred to as PCOS. To me, PCOS is more difficult to understand than endometriosis. Bare with me as I do my best to explain it... And keep in mind that I'm doing my best to understand all of it.
I was diagnosed with PCOS at my first consultation appointment with my reproductive endocrinologist. He performed an ultrasound that revealed I had 12 cysts on one ovary and 17 on the other. Multiple cysts on the ovaries doesn't automatically reveal PCOS, though, just as an absence of cysts doesn't mean you don't have PCOS. Confusing already, huh?
See, before all of this, I had read plenty about PCOS. In fact, I had even consulted my doctors about it because I had the irregular cycles that sometimes characterize PCOS. All of my doctors dismissed this possibility because I don't fit the typical profile of a PCOS patient. Women with PCOS tend to be over weight, have excess hair growth in areas that don't normally grow hair -- upper lip, tummy, feet, etc. I don't carry extra weight, I'm not necessarily "hairy", or not by my doctors' standards. I don't have a lot of acne. It just wasn't a concern to any of them.
Ultimately, I was surprised to be diagnosed because I had been so sure that it wasn't a possibility for me. Come to find out, I did have some irregular hair patterns. Hair that grew down from my belly button shouldn't be there -- this was something that had bothered me since I was in high school, but I had several girlfriends with the same thing, so I felt fairly normal. I'm not talking a man's happy trail here... just blonde hair, but hair that was more noticeable to me than the very, very fine fuzz that covers my body. In addition, my RE gently pointed out hair growing on my feet that was also an indicator. Does this mean that if you have a little tummy hair and hair growing from your big toes that you have PCOS? Probably not. But apparently my combination of signs led to my diagnosis ... Plus all those cysts on my ovaries.
I really felt terrified that this diagnosis was going to be the end of the road for me. The only people I had ever known or heard of that had PCOS couldn't have their own children. In my mind, this meant I wasn't going to be treated. I wanted to cry right then and there, but I didn't know these people. I was alone. I just wanted to get through the appointment.
My doctor and nurse were wonderful about making sure I could see what they saw and that I understood what was going on. It continues to be a lot for me to process, but they eased my mind about the treatability of my situation. This was not the end of the road -- and it wasn't even the end of the road when we found that we needed to treat not only PCOS but endometriosis, too.
What exactly is PCOS?
Polycystic ovarian syndrom is a hormonal disorder that's characterized by the presence of actual cysts on the ovaries. There are certain indicators of PCOS -- some of which I've listed above -- that include weight gain, unusual hair growth patterns, irregular or absent menstrual cycles, acne, and inability to achieve pregnancy.
Apparently the exact cause of PCOS is unknown, but I've asked them to explain to me what they do know. There is a connection between PCOS and Type 2 Diabetes because of an insulin resistance. Many women with PCOS who are overweight may be diabetic or pre-diabetic because of this insulin resistance. Metformin, a drug prescribed to diabetic patients, has been used to treat PCOS with great results. Women who aren't classic PCOS patients may not be at risk of developing diabetes as many with PCOS are. Instead, their insulin resistance may only affect their ovaries. Weird, huh? It doesn't make sense to me either. So I'm one of those gals -- with the weird insulin resisting ovaries.
Unfortunately, there are risks that come with PCOS. There is an increased risk of heart disease, Type 2 diabetes, endometrial cancer, high blood pressure, etc.
How does PCOS affect fertility?
In my individual case, I had a total of 27 cysts on my ovaries during my ultrasound back in March. These cysts were fluid-filled follicles. My doctor explained that my body was producing plenty of hormone -- such as LH -- but that my body was putting energy into producing several follicles. None of them were going to mature into anything, and instead they were preventing ovulation. Obviously without ovulation, I couldn't become pregnant. Even if I were to ovulate every once in awhile, it would be difficult to predict timing because of the irregularity of my cycles.
My treatment:
In the couple of months leading up to our first IVF attempt, my doctor has me on a low dose of Metformin, the drug often prescribed to diabetics. My blood sugar levels were tested, and they are low to begin with. Metformin lowers blood sugar, though, so although the drug will do its magic on my cysts, it's also going to lower my blood sugar further. I was instructed to take one tablet every night with a heavy meal -- hopefully the heavy meal would help keep my blood sugar up. I felt the effects in the first couple weeks of taking Metformin because I easily got light-headed, was really tired, needed to eat frequently, etc. At my next appointment, which will be in October, I should have more information on how the Metformin is working and my PCOS status.
I was diagnosed with PCOS at my first consultation appointment with my reproductive endocrinologist. He performed an ultrasound that revealed I had 12 cysts on one ovary and 17 on the other. Multiple cysts on the ovaries doesn't automatically reveal PCOS, though, just as an absence of cysts doesn't mean you don't have PCOS. Confusing already, huh?
See, before all of this, I had read plenty about PCOS. In fact, I had even consulted my doctors about it because I had the irregular cycles that sometimes characterize PCOS. All of my doctors dismissed this possibility because I don't fit the typical profile of a PCOS patient. Women with PCOS tend to be over weight, have excess hair growth in areas that don't normally grow hair -- upper lip, tummy, feet, etc. I don't carry extra weight, I'm not necessarily "hairy", or not by my doctors' standards. I don't have a lot of acne. It just wasn't a concern to any of them.
Ultimately, I was surprised to be diagnosed because I had been so sure that it wasn't a possibility for me. Come to find out, I did have some irregular hair patterns. Hair that grew down from my belly button shouldn't be there -- this was something that had bothered me since I was in high school, but I had several girlfriends with the same thing, so I felt fairly normal. I'm not talking a man's happy trail here... just blonde hair, but hair that was more noticeable to me than the very, very fine fuzz that covers my body. In addition, my RE gently pointed out hair growing on my feet that was also an indicator. Does this mean that if you have a little tummy hair and hair growing from your big toes that you have PCOS? Probably not. But apparently my combination of signs led to my diagnosis ... Plus all those cysts on my ovaries.
I really felt terrified that this diagnosis was going to be the end of the road for me. The only people I had ever known or heard of that had PCOS couldn't have their own children. In my mind, this meant I wasn't going to be treated. I wanted to cry right then and there, but I didn't know these people. I was alone. I just wanted to get through the appointment.
My doctor and nurse were wonderful about making sure I could see what they saw and that I understood what was going on. It continues to be a lot for me to process, but they eased my mind about the treatability of my situation. This was not the end of the road -- and it wasn't even the end of the road when we found that we needed to treat not only PCOS but endometriosis, too.
What exactly is PCOS?
Polycystic ovarian syndrom is a hormonal disorder that's characterized by the presence of actual cysts on the ovaries. There are certain indicators of PCOS -- some of which I've listed above -- that include weight gain, unusual hair growth patterns, irregular or absent menstrual cycles, acne, and inability to achieve pregnancy.
Apparently the exact cause of PCOS is unknown, but I've asked them to explain to me what they do know. There is a connection between PCOS and Type 2 Diabetes because of an insulin resistance. Many women with PCOS who are overweight may be diabetic or pre-diabetic because of this insulin resistance. Metformin, a drug prescribed to diabetic patients, has been used to treat PCOS with great results. Women who aren't classic PCOS patients may not be at risk of developing diabetes as many with PCOS are. Instead, their insulin resistance may only affect their ovaries. Weird, huh? It doesn't make sense to me either. So I'm one of those gals -- with the weird insulin resisting ovaries.
Unfortunately, there are risks that come with PCOS. There is an increased risk of heart disease, Type 2 diabetes, endometrial cancer, high blood pressure, etc.
How does PCOS affect fertility?
In my individual case, I had a total of 27 cysts on my ovaries during my ultrasound back in March. These cysts were fluid-filled follicles. My doctor explained that my body was producing plenty of hormone -- such as LH -- but that my body was putting energy into producing several follicles. None of them were going to mature into anything, and instead they were preventing ovulation. Obviously without ovulation, I couldn't become pregnant. Even if I were to ovulate every once in awhile, it would be difficult to predict timing because of the irregularity of my cycles.
My treatment:
In the couple of months leading up to our first IVF attempt, my doctor has me on a low dose of Metformin, the drug often prescribed to diabetics. My blood sugar levels were tested, and they are low to begin with. Metformin lowers blood sugar, though, so although the drug will do its magic on my cysts, it's also going to lower my blood sugar further. I was instructed to take one tablet every night with a heavy meal -- hopefully the heavy meal would help keep my blood sugar up. I felt the effects in the first couple weeks of taking Metformin because I easily got light-headed, was really tired, needed to eat frequently, etc. At my next appointment, which will be in October, I should have more information on how the Metformin is working and my PCOS status.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
it's so strange.
In previous posts I've mentioned the grieving process in regards to infertility. For me, the ups and downs are uncontrollable.
For the past few days, I have truly felt good. Maybe I've had proper distractions, maybe I've just been too busy to wallow, maybe I've hit a period of rationality (which is guaranteed to be brief)... I don't know. But right now I'm feeling hopeful and positive and eager for December to get here.
Now, when I let myself think about what December getting here means, I get a little panicky. For lots of reasons, I suppose. For the most part, I feel panicky that I will have an answer and that it could be the answer I don't want to hear. On the flip side of that panic, though, is such intense excitement and hope. And if I get the answer I've wanted for so long, I can only begin to imagine how I might process it.
I make a conscious effort not to use the word 'exciting' when describing my anticipation of the coming months because excitement doesn't begin to cover it. I would definitely use that word if I knew IVF was going to work. I would definitely use it if I knew I would get good news. I am not guaranteed any of that, though. In fact, there's an equally good chance that I will be disappointed beyond belief. That I will enter a new level of mourning in this journey. That I won't know what to do next. And for the reasons that I will experience one of two very different results, I am overwhelmed by the approach of December. That's the only word that currently works for me. Overwhelmed.
For now... For now I'm going to work on concentrating on today and what I might be able to accomplish in the moment. I'm going to enjoy my day-to-day. Stay positive and hopeful. And in the background, I will anticipate December.
For the past few days, I have truly felt good. Maybe I've had proper distractions, maybe I've just been too busy to wallow, maybe I've hit a period of rationality (which is guaranteed to be brief)... I don't know. But right now I'm feeling hopeful and positive and eager for December to get here.
Now, when I let myself think about what December getting here means, I get a little panicky. For lots of reasons, I suppose. For the most part, I feel panicky that I will have an answer and that it could be the answer I don't want to hear. On the flip side of that panic, though, is such intense excitement and hope. And if I get the answer I've wanted for so long, I can only begin to imagine how I might process it.
I make a conscious effort not to use the word 'exciting' when describing my anticipation of the coming months because excitement doesn't begin to cover it. I would definitely use that word if I knew IVF was going to work. I would definitely use it if I knew I would get good news. I am not guaranteed any of that, though. In fact, there's an equally good chance that I will be disappointed beyond belief. That I will enter a new level of mourning in this journey. That I won't know what to do next. And for the reasons that I will experience one of two very different results, I am overwhelmed by the approach of December. That's the only word that currently works for me. Overwhelmed.
For now... For now I'm going to work on concentrating on today and what I might be able to accomplish in the moment. I'm going to enjoy my day-to-day. Stay positive and hopeful. And in the background, I will anticipate December.
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