The last round of Gonal-F/Crinone/BFN launched me into several glorious months of birth control pills. I was actually looking forward to this as it would give my pizza face and the little intertube around my midsection a bit of time to chill the hell out. Thank you very much PCOS, you may now leave your ugly post.
Seems the beauty Gods had different plans for me, though. A few days prior to our Arizona trip, right before my period started and began the birth control pills, my face broke out like never before. Seriously y’all. We had forehead zits, cheek zits, chin zits and blackheads the size of an eraser on my nose*.
Determined to not look like infertility had taken a shit on my face I ventured out to Walgreen’s where I scoured the pimple treatment isle. This was all-out war. I eventually landed upon this gem. 10% Benzyl Peroxide, bitches! The packaging warned about exessive drying but I figured my pizza face was was exempt – it already had a good slick of oil covering it. Some drying would do it good.
Then I went to Arizona where the air is dryer than the fancy clothes dryer Mr. Husband brought into our marriage (bless him). It is so dry in AZ that if I don’t drink double my usual 8 glasses of water I feel like I might flake away. This air, coupled with this zit cream made for the nastiest face ever. Not only was I still zitty, I was also beyond dry. Come last week my face still had not recovered. I had huge cystic zits and skin that flaked if I sneezed. It had gotten so bad that my face hurt to smile.
Something had to be done. I prepared Mr. Husband for the financial damage: “Mr. Husband, my face feels like it is going to fall off and this zit on my chin is threatening to take my teeth hostage. I have to do something and that something requires a trip to Aveda and at least $100.”
Mr. Husband is a rational man and realized if he did not agree to this he would have to deal with yet another messy, snotty Belle breakdown. “By all means,” he said. “Go get something so your pretty face does not fall off.”
I thanked him and then stomped away muttering that “woe is me, nothing about me is pretty these days” blah blah blah. Dramaz Dramaz Dramaz.
On Sunday I walked into Aveda and was greeted by my usual customer service rep. This gal is super pretty, short and petite with long jet black wavy hair and perfectly applied makeup. She makes me feel so very plain Jane. And what did I say to her when she asked how she could help me? My eyes filled with tears and I blurted out, “I’m going through infertility treatment and it is killing my face and my sanity. PLEASE FIX MY FACE!”
And you know what she said? She said, “I’m going through this too. All I want is a baby and all I’m getting is acne. Don’t worry, I can fix your face.”
$132** later, and after a good bit of us over-sharing our woes, I headed home to perform a facial, wash, treat, and moisturize then drink more water in attempts to rehydrate the mess that used to be my face.
The point of this rant is not to gather sympathy for my narsty face, though. It is to discuss how amazing it is that we are not alone. It seems every time I open a can of over-share with someone I find another someone going through the same hell. Every time I confide in another human being I feel lighter, I feel more in control, and I feel less like I am the only woman on this earth roaming around with out a child by her side or a baby in her belly.
All this makes me wonder, am I right to keep my infertility so secret? Should I share freely with friends and the rest of my family? What if I were to open up about this on, say, the evil Facebook? Would I find myself surrounded by supporters, or heckled at my inability to produce an egg? I really want to put together a support group in my community. Maybe my chance encounter with a fellow infertile at Aveda was the sign from whomever is up there running this show that it is time to take action. What do you all think? Would you join a group of other infertiles to meet every few weeks for coffee and discussion? If so, how would you want to find out about this group? Craigslist? Facebook? Fliers at your RE’s office?
* Slight exaggeration.
** Hangs head in financial shame. A portion of this gawd awful bill was for shampoo and conditioner, too.