Warning: In this post I abuse CAPS LOCK, I swear more than I should and I’m terribly angry.
I’m a disaster. I can’t make it two hours without crying. Every time I look in the mirror I see infertility. I have more pimples than when I was 13. I am fat. I am tired. My head hurts.
When does it stop hurting? I just had a bust cycle. I can’t IMAGINE the agony you ladies who have lost a baby must go through. I am humbled by your ability to continue on.
I talked to Dr. Hope’s nurse today, who we shall call Samantha. Samantha said Dr. Hope does not want to see me until my next period – which is like four weeks or more away. Then they will scan me and consider if I can cycle again. I wanted to throw something at Samantha, but luckily she was just on the phone.
I don’t want another medicated cycle. I want IVF. And before that I want every damned test they can order to see what else could be wrong with me. Do I have natural killer cells? Test me! Do I have a clotting problem? TEST ME! I am ready to throw all our retirement at this doctor in hopes of making a baby and he says to WAIT??? This is hardly the American way. TAKE MY MONEY!
I’m oscillating between so angry, so sad and then so full of hate for myself that it is scary. This is not the kind of woman I am. I’m feisty. I’m funny. I’m a little to bothered by the sad things in the world. I’m a champion worrier. But I am not an angry, hate-filled person.
I have a wonderful group of ladies on Fertility Friend who have had to listen to me vent. They are so kind and supportive, but I’m pretty damn sure they are sitting at their computer thinking, “Chill the hell out Belle! Take a month off and then pick back up.”
I guess it boils down to me being a child. I want my damn baby. Everyone else around me has their baby. Everyone around me got to have their baby the good old-fashioned way. You know, with REAL SEX. It’s unfair. I want my baby now. I don’t want to sit patiently and wait. I don’t want to try 3 rounds of IUI and then move slowly forward. I don’t want to wait until I lose a baby to do loss tests. I want to move forward now.
*waves fist full of money, credit cards and investments*
But I can’t. I live in a small city with few doctor options. Traveling to see a doctor is really not an option since I have to work. I am stuck in another holding pattern and it does not feel good.
This temper tantrum has a point, I promise.
Since I can’t do anything medically, I am going to TRY and channel this anger, this hatred, this fierce need to reproduce in more constructive ways. I’m going to learn about PCOS. I’m going to learn how changing my diet can help. I have read all sorts of stories from women with PCOS who started eating differently and wham-bam-bang they had normal periods and ovulated. I am the most obsessive, neurotic person I know when it comes to food (read: pescatarian, allergic to all sorts of stuff, health-nut). Surely I can do this, too.
So I ordered a book and paid out the arse for next day shipping. I will read the entire thing in the next three days and then I will wage all out war on my cysty, broken, fucked up ovaries that just a few weeks ago attacked my body.
There, I feel an ounce better. I’m going to walk home now and try my hardest not to yell at Mr. Husband.
Filed under Uncategorized.