Comedy Sex Hour

You know how I know we're good and going to be ok? After what just happened, we're able to sit and laugh about it. -Mr.M

Another month down (and then some) and no positive. This is kind of expected; my work schedule has taken a lot out of me and I'm never home. It also seems that we are never alone. Then, when we finally have a few hours to relax, the unthinkable happens...

I promise you, the events that transpired recently could only be scripted in a sitcom. It was, seriously, the most awkward time ever. They say until the moment of conception, trying to make a baby is all about practice. There are times when you walk away feeling good, fist-pump the air, and shout for joy; practice was good, we got this! Then, there are moments, like that, where you shake your head and mutter, "I know we can do better!" and just heal up from the personal defeat and try again.

Practice makes perfect, but not every practice is perfect. Just a fact of life. Now, excuse me while I laugh a little more to myself and try to stay focused at work....

The Best Laid Plans...

Month two ended with nothing. No period, no positive. I shrugged it off; hormones, stress, possible cyst, everything collating into a storm of body hatred - and the feeling was mutual both from me to my body and from my body to me.

We planned to go on vacation starting this weekend. It was timed perfectly: between semesters at the university, coinciding with a big pay day, and smack dab in the middle of my theorized fertile time frame (or, the average "two weeks after the period began"). It turns out, Mother Nature is a complete bitch. After a no-show period, which came with plenty of bloating, exhaustion, headaches, back aches, and random twinges elsewhere, I began to get slightly worried; best case scenario: it's a cyst that bugs me after the vacation with a heavy flow; worst case: I start said heavy flow the moment I step foot on the cruise ship. We leave Saturday. As of today, Thursday, the missing period is here, late. I get to spend the first half of my trip feeling super self conscious of a damn tampon string as I lounge by the pool and dive into the ocean, and also worry about bathroom locations as we hike around some historical places. Not to mention the body paranoia of being so bloated my 'fat' pants are snug...and I am going out in public in a swim suit?!

A quick aside:

You would think that I would be used to the mood swings by now. The emotional arsenal array inside my head seems to be infinite -- and I can see, now, why some women are absolutely bonkers. The only thing I have determined is that telling Mr. M. what mood I'm in is the best way to preemptively kill any triggers that could set off a chain of events resulting in an even lower emotional pit of despair. There it is, again, folks: the key to a good, healthy relationship: communication.

I had originally planned to ditch my Metformin for the trip: Why worry about the side effects when I need to relax? Why worry over what I'm eating while I'm on vacation? The thought had crossed my mind that it would be wonderful to relax and have fun and not worry about anything, even have a cocktail or two, and maybe come home with a special souvenir. Now? I'm thinking 'to Hell with it', just so I can knock back a few shots. Not the best reasoning in the world, but certainly not the worst. Come to think of it, it would be one less thing to shove in my carry-on....

What's the famous war theory quote? No plan survives first contact with the enemy. Yea, the same can be said when dealing with hormones, planning for pregnancy, and facing off with Mother Nature.

Month One Done

I end this first month as expected (not expecting). Rome wasn't built in a day and I didn't foresee a baby so soon. Would have been nice, but realistically, I know the odds. Also, just because I'm off the birth control, there's no guarantee that it's completely out of my system yet. Which, I assume, is the reason behind the late period - only a few days, but still not clockwork. Probably why I was nauseated with huge, swollen, tender breasts and severe back pain from that load a full week before that pesky period, too. (Ladies, if you envy those of us naturally gifted with a large rack, don't. Sometimes, they're not worth the trouble.)

I grabbed lunch in the cafeteria at work today. A first in over a week (I've been out of office at lunch quite a bit lately). One of the baristas flagged me down:

"Are we pregnant yet?" She smiled.

"No, not yet."

"Oh, come on! What are you doing, then?" Her over exaggerated sigh made me giggle.

"Apparently just practicing."

She's got a four year old at home and isn't ready for another one, but she is super excited over every baby-to-be that wanders past her register. I think she is one of the few (read: less than 5) I know in person that know we're trying that I am happy to have told. Turns out, I needed a support group more than I realized.

Communication

What makes any relationship, business or personal, work? The one key thing that takes the longest to drill into a person's head: communication. I'm not talking a short conversation full of grunts and "yea, whatever"s, but actual back and forth discussion and listening.

Ok, sure, that C word could include the nonverbal, too, but if you aren't on the same wavelength, a wave of the hand meaning a dismissal could be interpreted as a wave of consent. Talking is important.

It was through talking that I realized my husband was absolutely confused about what I meant when I would tell him about the internal events of my 'lady bits'. To me, I was saying "I'm in pain right now, but I would love a round of fun in a few hours." His ears would hear "I am indisposed for another few days." Major confusion, no?

What made things worse was the unpredictable nature of my periods and pms symptoms due to the cysts; yes, I was on the Metformin, and, yes, I was taking regulating birth control pills, but my hormones were somehow that out of whack. There were a few months where I would have a full two weeks of light bleeding, enjoy a short week-long break, then suffer a heavy week long flow. It was maddening.

We both devised, the same day, a way - the same way - to communicate on a much simpler level how I was feeling for the day. Great minds think alike (insert wink here). Our bathroom has a full vanity mirror and a mirror covered medicine cabinet; the medicine cabinet sits on an odd wall, so the mirror is pointless - until now. We have a habit of using dry erase markers to add important notes for the day or week on the vanity mirror, so why not do the same on the awkward side mirror?

The medicine cabinet is now a Mrs.M. status board: a happy, smiling face means I'm good to go, while  a sad, often crying, frowny face means there is a hold on any baby-making practice. Like I said: it's fairly simple. It has cut down on disappointing nights and has made for some fun adult coloring.

Sometimes, it's the little things that make the most impact.

And So It Begins

The last birth control pill has been taken and Aunt Flo has left the building.

We will start slow on our journey to a family; for the moment, we're doing nothing different: no testing, no temping, no change in frequency (I mean, no going out of our way to go at it like bunnies). For this first month, at the very least, we will leave things up to chance - the Metformin and prenatals and healthier diet will be the only things on my mind. We'll see how it goes from here!

Keeping Me Honest

You would think that the desire and dream of having a baby, even if not immediately, would be enough to keep me honest on this diet business. I admit that, while it is a strong motivator, it sometimes isn't enough.

Isn't enough? Am I crazy? Of course not, but knowing that I still have a few weeks before I have to be on the strictly baby-conscious menu, I know that it won't be the end of the world if I cheat and have a coffee or a bowl of ice cream piled high with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Yea, the side effects of the Metformin help curb most of those cravings, but there are times that I can psych myself up and, knowing what's coming, power through and devour the food I want.

This past week, I wondered if I had made a mistake in letting slip to the barista at the company cafeteria the journey that I am starting on. I walked away kicking myself as I sipped down the last mocha frappuccino I told her I would buy for awhile. I never intended to tell anyone I know personally or professionally about trying to conceive.

A few days later, I found that it was a good decision. I had been having a relatively bad morning and found myself making crazy excuses for why I should be allowed to have another frappuccino, complete with a few extra espresso shots and about three or four Ghirardelli dark chocolate squares blended inside (trust me, this is heaven in a cup!). Instead of acquiescing, she smiled and jokingly scolded me, "Now, now, we're not having that; we're trying to have a baby." She then suggested a handful of options that I might like, none of which contained a lot of sugar, any dairy, or caffeine. She had even told the other baristas that I was limited on menu items. She said she did it to help keep me honest and hoped I wasn't mad.

I can't be mad, even if I wanted to be; she did it to help me and it is help that I most certainly will be needing. I know it can take a village to rear a child, but who would have guessed that it would take a village to prepare to try conceiving?

Let's Talk Medications

I am by no means a perfectly healthy human being, even before the PCOS diagnosis. I keep an inhaler with me at all times for my asthma, though I only use it "as needed" now. I also take a daily 12.5mg of Atenolol for high blood pressure (this is after having been on a heart regulating pill for a few years). When my body decides to get sick, I get sick. Head colds quickly become sinus and upper respiratory infections. Same with allergies. Some months through the year, I'm even taking a daily allergy pill to be proactive with my heath. Some years, it doesn't help. Currently, I am not taking any allergy pill (not that it helped in the month of April!).

For this last month of birth control pills, I am also holding steady with my 1500mg of Metformin and adding in the OB Complete Petite Softgel prenatal. This makes 5.5 pills daily and an inhaler on-hand; no biggie. I got this.

The good thing about the Metformin is the restricted diet to control side effects. I end up eating a lot of fruits and veggies and have mad cravings for steak - and I am not complaining! I cannot have any straight milk or dairy product, though, which kills me. I'm not a fan of a full glass of milk to begin with, but I do enjoy a blended (now caffeine free) beverage from the coffee shop most mornings. Some meals just aren't the same with a big cup of Earl Grey tea (which, now that I think about it, must go, soon, too - this whole 'no caffeine' thing kinda sucks).

The blood pressure medication will need to go once we pop positive. I know this. Both my cardiologist and my OBGYN are aware of this. Once I have positive confirmation, I am under orders to call in and have her order a pregnancy-safe blood pressure medication, set up my appointment with her, and give my cardiologist notice of the change. I'm fairly certain I'm going to be under watch as high-risk patient the moment that test strip shows two pink lines (insert frowny face here).

Aside from the occasional Tums, that's it. I have always self-treated migraines with naps and take Tylenol on rare occasions.

These next few months will be an interesting trip, to say the least. With any luck, I won't need any more pills or medications to can get pregnant; I mean, I already take enough as it is!

Let The Journey Begin!

We have officially decided that this is the last month of birth control. Our journey from a couple to a family of three is about to begin!

We don't expect this to be easy. The last year and a half has been eye-opening, painful, and worrisome; less than six months after we said 'I do', I was diagnosed with Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome, or PCOS. We were relieved that I hadn't suffered a miscarriage, but I was devastated - even though the doctor told me my case is fairly mild, I had the fear that I would never be able to be a mother.

My own mother smiled the way moms do and told me not to put too much thought into the diagnosis. She said that age 19, she was told that she would never be able to conceive. Three years later, I came along, and soon after me came three more children. I try to hold on to that thought.

My doctor immediately put me on Metformin, 1500mg per day. She also prescribed a low-dose birth control pill so that I wouldn't get pregnant while she tried to fix me. I had no real outward symptoms, that I knew of, to give me a clue that I was broken: I had regular cycles, never really had bad cramps, and had a pretty normal sex drive. After visiting with my doctor and getting blood tests and every kind of probing possible, I didn't know what to think. I did find out that my trouble losing weight was hormonal, as was the very unladylike mustache (something you could only see in the right light; seriously, a few minutes with a tweezer and it was gone). The months since have been filled with sporadic cysts, emotional roller coaster rides, and some pretty unpleasant pharmaceutical side effects.

We are about to celebrate our second wedding anniversary. Headed into our third year of wedded bliss, we will be dreaming of three. Join us for the journey?