In February I paid my general physician a visit to discuss having a baby. In November 2010 I had been diagnosed with what medical experts suspect is mild lupus. My doctors advice once I was in remission was make babies now. “Do not wait,” they said. “You are already 30 and we don’t know what turn this potential lupus will take in the future.” Mr. Husband and I took this warning to heart and decided to proceed. Adios birth control!
So I talked to my general physician about making sure my body was in fighting shape for baby making. We talked about my healthy lifestyle, my worries and my desires.
I am a:
- Pescetarian : I eat fish once or twice a week.
- I do not eat anything with legs (including shellfish)
- I do not eat dairy (allergic to dairy, nuts, peanuts, and shellfish, actually)
- I practice yoga religiously
- I walk
- I bike
- I weight train
- My BMI is 20
- I do not smoke, I have a beer with dinner
- I only eat whole grains
- I eat a wide variety of fruits and veggies
The doctor smiled and assured me that aside from the potential lupus, I am one of the healthiest people she has seen. The only thing she would change is that I should eat eggs.
I gagged. Eggs. Yuck.
She explained that eggs are one of the healthiest things I can eat and that by having them about three times a week I can basically bet on a healthy, successful pregnancy.
Really? Eggs can do that?
“You bet!” she cheered.
And so I left with a false sense of security. If eating eggs is all I had to do to achieve optimal health and make a baby then bring on the liquid chicken. I scrambled eggs into rice that night and, as I served it to Mr. Husband, announced that at this rate we’ll be pregnant in no time!
By April I had not had a period since November. “But I’m so healthy!” I pleaded with the reproductive endocrinologist (RE), who we shall refer to as Dr. Who. “Yes,” he said. “But you’re not ovulating. We’ll start you on Clomid. It is the miracle drug.”
Clomid + scrambled eggs. Surely that would make an egg come out of me.
The only thing Clomid produced in my body was an allergic reaction causing me to lose half my hair. A tragic event for a slightly-vain and seemingly infertile 30-year old.
The weeks following Clomid have been a rollercoaster of emotions and doctors. I eventually fired Dr. Who after two potentially fatal events where my food allergies were overlooked (nuts and shellfish allergies are serious business, Dr. Who!)
Today I have a new RE we shall call Dr. Hope. Dr. Hope has a wife with an autoimmune condition whom he successfully knocked up with triplets. While I’m not super keen on having a litter of babies, I do take this success as a glimmer of hope in my bowl of scrambled eggs. On Monday I’ll start Crinone to induce a period and then, hopefully, my first round of Gonal-F.
I find this TTC journey immensely stressful and lonely. I am certain Mr. Husband is tired of hearing about my ovaries, my cervical mucus, my NEED for a family. I know the cats are tired of my spontaneous crying outbursts. I know my coworkers are suspicious. I know I need a release.
In a previous pre-TTC life I would have found that release through intense cardio and weight lifting. The doctors, however, stress that I need to relax, rest and gain some fat in order to prepare for a baby. Instead of beating my body and mind into submission, I have started this blog, Scrambled Eggs, as a way to share my journey anonymously across the blogiverse. Maybe I’ll bring some comfort and inspiration to others. Maybe I’ll make some TTC friends. Maybe I’ll be able to make it a full 24-hours without saying “baby,” “vagina” or “ovaries” to poor Mr. Husband. Maybe.
Will you join me?