"Trying to Conceive" to fertiles

I had a very awkward conversation with my mother the other day and I felt the need to share it here because really, only y'all will get it. I hope.

Mom: When do you think you'll try for another baby?
Me: I don't know, maybe in a few months, maybe next year, just don't know right now.
Mom: So you're on the pill? That can be dangerous. . .
Me: No, not on the pill.
Mom: What then?
Me: Nothing.
Mom. So you're trying.
Me: No.
Mom: But if you are not using protection then you're trying.
Me: No. Really, no. I mean if it happened great. But we're not trying.
Mom: If you don't use protection you're trying.

I honestly had forgotten that in the world of fertiles you can really just have sex and get pregnant as simple as that. So in my mom's world, we are trying. I wish she knew that after what I've been to [as you all have too] that having sex and getting pregnant is not really trying much of anything at all.

Standstill

Since I began trying to eat better and live a better healthier lifestyle things have improved. I exercised four times last week. I ate between 1200-1400 calories per day erring on the lower end most days. I have not touched any junk food, nor any white rice, nor pasta.

And I've lost no weight.

I had seen a negative five pound loss which inexplicably went back to a two pound loss and for the past 2.5 weeks its stayed just there, not budging an inch.

I wish I had kept journals of previous weight loss. I want to say that this might be normal. That my body resists my initial attempts to lose weight but over time it will figure it out and what I'm doing will work. I mean logically, less calories in + exercise = weight loss. It's scientific I thought. And yet my body is holding on for dear life to every fat cell a though a famine is around the bend not a McDonald's and Sonic drive-up.

Sigh. I'm still holding strong. Not giving up. But I am discouraged. I gave up carbs for dinner, then carbs for lunch. Carbwise I have two cups of tea with a teaspoon of sugar, one piece of fruit, and a glass of milk daily. That's it. I just don't get it.

Emotional Eating. Damn You.

I went to Whole Foods today to get some meatloaf and salmon. I normally struggle there because they have these chocolate chip cookies that are amazing. Nuke them for 30 seconds. Glass of warm milk. Heaven. Everytime I go its a mental struggle. This time- I nearly forgot about them until I passed them on my way to check- out- and even then- no struggle at all. It's truly amazing to see my body let go of its addiction and constant need for sugar. I do have sugar. I have a spoon in my tea that I have every day. But no cakes, chips, junk food of any sort. No rice or noodles for that matter either. And the transformation of my cravings is amazing.

But damn you emotional eating. I thought you were a fancy psycho-babble term. I pictured emotional eaters weeping over a big gallon of icecream spoon in hand huddled in a corner in the dead of night. But no.

I wrote my second novel and I am really proud of it. I actually sort of LOVE it. So much that I'm okay that the first one got put on hold because tTHIS ONE? This one will knock off an editor's socks. I am that confident in its awesomeness if someone will but give it a chance. I have an agent. I have been trying to reach my agent to get this manuscript to her for her to read. She read the first three chapters in January and gave me a thumbs up to keep going. Which I have. Working toiling, day after day, staying up late, using up all W's nap hours to get this book written, and now its done and I love it. Except I CANT REACH HER. Twitter. Text. Cell phone. Work Phone. E-mail. Nada.

I know she will eventually get back to me. I think. But then, how long until she reads my manuscript? Gives me feedback? It's all making me antsy.

And as I considered it I found myself eating a handful of cashews. Then nibbling on grapes. Not because I was hungry. Or wanting it. Just because. And then I started thinking about that cookie at Whole Foods. Wishing I had it. Wishing I could eat it.

OH. So THAT is what emotional eating is.

I promptly turned on my Wii and did some running and yoga. And I feel better. Still anxious. Stressed. Nervous. But better.

I'm still in my calorie quota for today, but had I not this blog, and my friend who is dieting with me, I KNOW today is the kind of day I would have run out to the nearby sonic ordered a big ice cream sundae and ate it in the car feeling bad for myself and feeling like I deserved this one joy just now.

But I didn't. This is progress. Bigger progress than I thought myself capable of.

PCOS. Dieting. And Ownership.

I resisted cake two days in a row this weekend. While my husband eats ice-cream bars, I eat frozen grapes for dessert [Thanks for the tip Claire!]. I am sticking to 1200-1500 calories per day. And the fact that I am doing this with a friend who also remembers a time when she was a size she loved, and has the same exact weight loss goal as me- its keeping me honest because I don't want to let her down since I truly feel we're in it together.

And today I stepped on the scale and I lost five pounds.

I also had a realization. I have PCOS. The classic case with a ring around the ovaries of eggs that never self-actualized and insulin-resistance running through my blood. My grandfather, two aunts, one uncle, all have type II diabetes. Four cousins have PCOS. I had gestational diabetes. I cannot run away from the reality. Diabetes is where I'm headed if I allow my sweet tooth to reign over me.

While I can debate all I want about what came first, the PCOS or the weight issues. The fact is I haven't been eating healthy. Normal me would have eaten a bite of cake. Then a second because hell, I had one slice why not just start "fresh" tomorrow and go crazy today? And then repeat again the day after.

Today as I cleaned my bedroom I came across a hershey wrapper. It still had one square inside. I found it stuffed in my nightstand. I must have eaten it in secret some time ago so my husband wouldn't see. And I realized: This isn't normal to hide your sweets and keep promising to "get clean" on the elusive 'next day'.

I may not be able to stop diabetes, or PCOS, or future gestational diabetes, but I can at least stop giving my body the things that certainly don't help it deal with those issues. Every bite of cake I refrain from, I'm giving my body a chance at health, a chance to be free from diabetes.

This is more than just fitting back into my size 4 jeans now. This is about taking back my control. And owning my part so it wont happen again.

Baby Showers. Still Hurt.

Baby showers remain remarkably painful affairs. I still refrain from attending when at all possible. I wish I knew why. It is a celebration of the impending arrival of new life. It is enjoying the company of friends. And cooing over a pregnant belly. And debating the merits of boys versus girls. And playing silly baby shower games that kindergartners might find tedious. Oh yeah, now I remember why. I'm also scarred- I attended too many during my season of infertility and loss- I had to sit there and clap at a baby bonnet while my insides were torn into shreds and nod sympathetically as the pregnant party bemoaned how 'big she looked' and then promptly bury my head against the steering wheel, safely away from prying eyes to weep until my soul felt thirsty. As lovely as my son is, as much as he has helped heal my open wounds, I am still wounded- and these sorts of events- still hurt.

I am attending one today despite a million reasons not to. The girl in question painted her nursery in the first trimester, and wanted to have a baby, and then- just did. And I can't hate her for this. For her good fortune. For her lack of struggles since we each have our own crosses to bear- but- I'd rather visit once the baby is born, bring a gift- and avoid the festivities of a baby shower. I had to go since I got talked into a carpool that I despite my lawyer skills, could not talk myself out of, so we will be driving one hour one-way to attend- with no means to leave early.

I will guess the size of her belly. And marvel at baby booties, and blankets. And then I'm going to go home and hold my son so tight- and remind myself that things aren't the same. I might have to visit my dark place some days, but I no longer live there. I've dressed up this dark place with window coverings and a fresh coat of paint, but days like today I am reminded I cannot change what it is and that I must be gentle with this ugly, darker part of me.

Eating from the brain. Eating from the heart.

I really didn't think I was an emotional eater. I thought I just craved sweets. End of story. But as I am doing this whole weight-loss journey I realize its more than that. We are thinking of putting our house on the market and moving closer to the city. Not the best to put your house on the market. Such a bad time in fact that we'd lose more than half our equity. The logic is we'll make up the loss by purchasing a house we could never afford in the city since prices there have gone down too. It's stressful to figure this out all the while your house is having major issues and you are putting money in you know you will NEVER see back.

So today I had egg/toast/tea and then two bowls of soup for lunch with two tall glasses of water. My stomach is full. Yet, as I was driving with W in the backseat, I wanted to stop at the sonic on the way to the grocery store to get a big bowl of icecream. And then at the grocery store I wanted a nice warm chocolate chip cookie. Two. Maybe three. And I wasn't hungry. My stomach was full. I want to lose weight. And yet- I wanted these other things- and I realized then, for the first time, that why yes, I do emotional eat. I want to eat the cookie and the ice cream because tehy will make me feel better. They taste delicious and for that brief moment life will feel better though if I think it all through [which I did] I will regret messing with my progrss- and I know when it comes to crack-sugar [ie. anything in cakes, cookies, etc] I can't just have one bite and a bite now will mean a wasted weekend. That's just how it is.

I don't know what this information tells me because you see, as much as I now am aware I have tendencies to emotionally eat, it does not mean that I don't want to do it.

Haven't done it. But want to.

How strange to learn something new about yourself

Wanting a girl. Apparently.

I went to a mom's group. All nice women. Discussing boys and girls. It's my fault. I started it as we discussed what we thought we were having when we were pregnant.

Me: I was convinced it was a girl- when the doctor said boy- I told him he had to be mistaken.
Mom1: Oh yes- I was devestated when I learned I was having a boy.
Mom2: I burst into tears hysterical- my husband had to comfort me.
Mom3: Well the next one might be a girl you have hope!
Me: Well, I didn't care either way, I just was thinking it was a girl. I had a hard time getting and staying pregnant so as long as the baby was healthy it was my only concern.

I hated being the Debbie Downer- but I could not sit there as people whined about having boys. I realize I started it- but never with the intention that others took it with.

Seriously. Tears on your first child because you wanted a girl. Seriously.

The anatomy of a brownie- and a craving

Michele, you were right. There is benefit in paying attention to why we overeat. I thought I indulged in sweets because they tasted good and so I wanted them. While this is a BIG part of it- I realized last night there is more to it. It wasn't actually the brownie- its still sitting on the counter- feel bad throwing it away but its likely stale so no use eating it- will toss it after I write this- but it was actually these ice cream sandwiches in the freezer. They are a low-fat Skinny Cow mega-pack I bought weeks ago at Sam's Club. Because I'm avoiding sugar- though they are low-fat I am not eating them- plus they have so many preservatives- its unsettling.

Evening neared- K asked me if I wanted one as he got one out of the freezer. I said no. But it was a very wavering no after an entire day of being good and strong and sticking with the plan. As the evening wore on, I kept thinking of it. The ice cream sandwich- how it wasn't a big deal- 140 calories, a tiny bit of sugar really- and I needed to wean off sugar- not just cut it cold turkey- and I wanted it- around 11 I finally asked K, "can you bring me the ice cream sandwhich" and he looked at me and said, "but its so late, we're about to sleep" and I nodded, duly chastened.

Went to sleep, woke up, and the craving is gone and I'm SO glad I didn't have it.

My evening hours after dinner are my weakest hours. They always have been. I can look back to sneaking out when I was 15 to go to the fridge and eat leftovers. I always say I have a bad metabolism but looking back at how I ate- I'm beginning to think it wasn't that bad. There is something maybe rewarding about it- like those calories don't count- though they do in the worst ways.

Now I know- its not that I want the ice cream or the other crap, its that I feel like I want it- they aren't the same thing. When I'm denying it- my mind is doing the talking. When I'm indulging, its my baser instincts. I hope this will help- realizing this not for the first time, but in a more profound way.

The thing is I CAN DO THIS. Not just back in the day, but now. I had gestational diabetes and I abstained. I did it because I had to. I fast during Ramadan, not tempted by so much as a french fry. I can do this- I need to believe I can.

Coming up next its Friday, the weekend- the worst worst time for me to diet -gatherings where dessert is part of the fare and everyone will notice you not take a bite [and you feel embarassed since you've been this weight all tehse years diet or not dieting so you think they're mocking you in their heads and you think 'I'll have a bite'] If you're reading and have any tips for handling outings and weekends- I'd love to hear. This weekend? A kid's birthday party with Publix sheet cake- I even indulged when I had GD on a slice at my baby shower- Oi.

Thanks for reading and your support.

The two week weight loss plan

Claire gave me some great food for thought and I spent the day, really thinking about my binge post-declaring-weight-loss and what it meant. And while perhaps I shouldn't be overthinking it- if you've been reading my blog for any amount of time you know, overthinking is just what I do.

Still, I do think that introspection is required. Today, I did not limit myself, I simply observed how I ate- and while I didn't eat great- I noticed that after I would finish something bad for me, like a granola bar with chocolate chips- I felt a sense of disappointment afterwards. Not guilt for having eaten, but disappointment that eating it did not give me the satisfaction I craved- and I then wanted another one- and another one- and I soon realized I could eat twenty and they're not giving me the satisfaction, the sense of fulfillment that I want.

I also realized that I am addicted. And while meth and crack recoverers can avoid their former social circle to be away from the triggers- food is everywhere and so fixing this is going to be an ongoing battle.

I thought back to when I lost thirty pounds when I was getting married. I had internal motivation. I felt good losing the weight. I loved the pants getting looser- and I had grown accustomed to eating less- bites of a hershey kiss doing for me the same as what a container would do for me now. Satisfy me.

I need to teach myself the same habits I had learned back then. I need to believe that despite the fact that I gained it back- that I can do it again.

I am so rooted in the belief that I will fail. Even K tells me that, "I'll have to see it to believe it" based on my many failed attempts- that I'm scared to believe I can do it. And when you think that sooner or later you'll fail, when a giant chocolate cake presents itself you indulge because hey, you're going to fail sooner or later anyways, right?

I want to lose weight because:

• I want my clothes to fit right again
• I want to possibly fight PCOS
• I want to ward of type II diabetes
• an easier time if/when I get pregnant again
• I want my son to see me do this and to see TWO health conscious parents

And- I want to not let my cravings own me. I need to own my cravings. I want my self-control and self-discipline back. I want that more than I want to even lose the weight.

Because sugar is my biggest culprit- my biggest weakness- and one bite leads to two and to three- and then on and so forth- my plan is to give up sugar, rice and pasta for the next two weeks. It's not atkins. It's not south beach. It's just getting rid of sugar, rice and pasta keeping fruit and vegetables intact. I'm also going to track my weight and calories on "myfitnesspal" which is like a free weight watchers and totally awesome- and I'll update here from time-to-time.

Just the thought of going sugar-free is scaring me- but I need to do it because I need to prove to myself that I'm in charge of my body.

Once I can get a hold of my sugar cravings, two weeks hence, I will reassess and make changes to my dieting- but just like breastfeeding was hell on earth those first few weeks, and I survived only by going one feed at a time, so with sugar withdrawal- Ill have to handle it one meal at a time.

Here's hoping I can do this.

Weight Loss- Easier Said. . . Than Done.

So I wrote a post about how I intend to lose weight, how I'd like to drop some weight by my 32nd birthday and before I try to conceive again- and then- I signed off- and went to McDonalds and had a vanilla ice cream cone followed with M&Ms and Pad Thai for dinner.

What. the. fuck?

I never go to McDonalds. My last trip to McDonalds was in 2009 in Spain when we could find nothing in our near the vicinity that didn't have pork, and before then? When I was 18. I don't know what possessed me to declare myself on a diet and then run off to stuff myself with as much sugar as possible.

I think part of it is this fear to give up sugar. To eat healthy. I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'm going to fail. Because I've failed so many times before. Because weight loss has always been such a damn struggle- I dont think I can do it- and my body in rebellion against my mind- went to McDonalds.

I used to be a size four, it was a brief time but it was a beautiful time and since then I've looked back with wistfulness wanting it again, never giving away the clothes from that era, but never doing what it takes to get back to where I once was.

I have been at this weight for five years now. I'm ashamed of it. So ashamed I cannot even state it here on this private blog with people who support me, the only ones reading. I begin with sincere effort- and then I drop off- I begin- then I fail.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I'm going to sit down and get more specific. I'm going to make a clear goal. A clear plan. And I will do this. I can do it. I must do it.

PCOS. Weight Loss. And a new bloggy focus.

I've been reading Michele's blog for years now and her recent journey to weight loss is inspiring not just because she succeeded but because she struggled like me, she has PCOS, and she did it. She succeeded. Not to look like a cover-girl [though she looks lovely- and always has] but for the right reasons. I e-mailed her today and asked her if she felt her blogging helped her succeed and she said it did because it kept her accountable.

I hesitated writing about my weight-loss journey here because this is a blog about infertility and loss- but according to my doctor- my PCOS is directly tied with weight. [though what came first, the chicken or the egg e.g. weight caused PCOS or PCOS caused weight I can't be sure] so weight loss is related to the theme of this space.

I've hidden behind my PCOS for years as the reason I've struggled but Michele has PCOS and she did it. And my story is similar to hers in that as much as the medical issues may play a part in the struggle- I DO eat more than I should- I am addicted to sugar to an unhealthy crack-addict degree- and its time to stop so I can finally conquer this- so I can reduce my chance of type II diabetes which runs rampant in my family and which thanks to gest. diabetes I am at an incrased risk for, and so my son will learn to do as I do not as I say.

So I'm dusting the cobwebs off this blog- and I'll be writing here in this anonymous space [away from the eyes of my extended family] to hold myself accountable and also to see for myself, if I can do this. If I stick to calorie control and being good about my diet- can I honestly lose weight? If not- if PCOS just makes this impossible- then at least I'll have this blog to print and take to my doctor to show her just how strict I was and how little I achieved. Though, I hope this is not the case.

March 28- August 28- almost in time for my 32nd birthday. I am going to hold back from setting a weight loss numerical goal- just the goal to kick my sweet addiction, and to watch my calories, and conquer this beast once and for all. I'm using "my fitness pal" a free app and website that helps me track my calories and keeps me accountable no matter where I am.

So while this blog will be updated more regularly, it might also get quite boring with weight-loss vents and pitfalls, so if you decide to stop reading, I understand [really!] and if you do keep reading- thanks, your support means the world.

The pregnancy possibility- answered

Six a.m.

I whispered to my husband, who was holding safe the pregnancy test I purchased until it was exactly 14dpo and not a moment before, that I needed to test now- he told me the secret hiding place- under the bathroom sink- and I went to take the test.

I brought it back to the bedroom and put it on the night stand, snuggled in bed with my husband and my son, and waited while running a hand over his soft hair.

I thought about what it would be like to have two babies under two.
How would I do it? Would I have to wean W early? What about my diet?

And then my mind shifted to . . .

new baby smells, and a friend for W, and my God not having to try not having to struggle and stare at blank pregnancy tests month after month, year after year, doctor's visits, and fertility drugs and the painful way that infertility can leach onto your mind and your soul like a parasite sucking everything else from you but that one thought- how nice to complete my family without struggling this time. What a beautiful gift- to be the mythical family that has a surprise baby after years of struggle.

"It's time," my husband said. So I looked over at the test resting under the glow of my salt rock lamp and. . .

negative.

Instead of tears, a stabbing pain, I felt.. . oh. A trickle of disappointment especially for my husband who looked positively crestfallen [an expression I never saw in all our years of negatives before W] and a mild building of apprehension as I realize that to have my joy doubled- I will have to go through some serious shit. Again.

Still. I'm okay. Feeling a little silly. That after all this time I listened to signs and symptoms and just felt so fucking sure.

I also decided that I'm not ready to go through the range of emotions that infertility and loss bring with it [and I'm fairly certain I will have a loss before I have success as I did with W] I desperately want my son to have a sibling to be his shoulder when we are gone- but I need a little bit of time to enjoy my son and heal my body and more importantly my still open wounds. K agreed, this almost possibility affecting him deeper than I imagined- we both need to let there be some distance- before we put our hearts on the line like that again.

Could it? No. Maybe? Sigh.

I'm not sure how but I've found myself in a two week wait. It was not expected nor planned as I wanted to give my body at least 18 months to heal before thinking about it. I'm on a weight loss kick having shed about 12 pounds since January and wanted to be in good physical shape before putting my body through the ringer again. Plus I'm not on metformin and my cycles have gone wonky again [Thank you PCOS]- and yet I think spontaneity may have coincided with ovulation. . . I tell myself its nothing. It could be nothing- and yet- there I go again- looking at signs, wondering if the headache means something, the sprouting of nausea- even though its only been 5 days and no signs appear so soon- and then I think I've been pregnant three times and I'm feeling similar things? But then I wonder if I'm delusional- because five days.

So we'll see. March 27th I'll test if I need to. What goes after if its two lines? The lovenox and doctor appointments and GD fun part deux? I'm going to take it one day at a time. Ovulation does not always equal pregnancy- and sadly pregnancy does always not equal baby. Still- I have W this time- and I think that's going to make all the difference.

I already sound saner than last time don't I?

Clearly this is not on my regular blog- but I needed a place to sort through it- so obviously its a big old bloggy secret until I know something! :)

Friendship and my fundamental flaw

I can't believe how long its been since I last posted here. I just found comments waiting for moderation from so long ago- I feel bad. I'm sorry I've let my sunflower blog collect dust and gather weeds. Most of my blogging is on my longer-standing non-private blog.[ If you want the link just leave a comment or an e-mail, and its okay to link to both blogs I saw three people asked that- thank you so much for double checking].

I began posting this on my other blog but then realized that the people who I am writing about read that blog religiously and will likely recognize themselves and the last thing I want to do is begin a passive-aggressive dialogue with them. So I bring the issue here- to my safe space and yet I know I hardly post here so I sort of feel like I'm standing in a field talking to my echo. If anyone is still around- thanks for listening.

I have a serious fundamental personality flaw. I cannot stand fakeness. I cannot stand hypocrisy. Now this might sound like the equivalent of saying I work too hard when asked of personal weakness at a job interview, but I do perceive this as a flaw. I really cannot stand insincerity. It pisses me off, it makes my stomach hurt, it makes me want to never be friends or speak to the person again.

And yet, I dont know if its my luck or this is how humans work, I run into this over-and-over again. I have a friend, D. She's been my friend for 4 years now and her and her husband are our go-to couple for an evening out, or to catch a movie with. D will call me sometimes after we meet someone new and talk them in a very negative way. "I can't stand A- she's so annoying- have you heard her voice? She is so weird." and on and on. Then she'll turn to another person with a similar negative take on them. And then- she'll turn around and invite them to her house for a party, and rush over to their house for a dinner party too though she'll be sure to call afterwards to tell me how weird the host was. And- I just. don't. get. it.

I saw today that she's having a superbowl party and on her e-vite she invited two people she purportedly can't stand. I texted her, "oh you're inviting them?" and she responded "ofcourse, why wouldn't I?"

Oh I don't know. Because you say you can't stand them on a regular basis?

Yet this seems to be the way of the world. Every time I make friends this happens. You hear them talk shit about other people. You hear them say cruel things. And then you look on facebook and they're talking about how much they miss them, and you see pictures of them arm in arm- and- I just. don't. get. it.

If I say I don't like someone then it means that while I will be polite to them if I encounter them, I will not invite them to my home, I will not coo over them, I will not write on their facebook walls how awesome they are. Similarly, if you are wrong to me, I will always be polite to you- but I will never forget it and in my heart you are closed to me forever.

And yet- the longer I live the more I see that the rest of the world doesn't operate like this. And my friend D's actions are making me so angry even though she's not the first to behave this way and won't be the last. Even though D hasn't done anything to me, her actions now make me want to have nothing to do with her. And yet- our husbands are friends- we have mutual friends- so I can't do it. I can't drop contact. I have to smile. And I have to be polite. And in turn become a hypocrite. Become Fake. And its making me so angry. Can you see how this is truly a personality flaw now?

I just wonder sometimes if I'm one of the only ones or if really there are far more sincere people than otherwise, I've just had really bad luck.

I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is ending up with people who make you feel all alone. - Lance Clayton- 'World's Greatest Dad'

Late periods, PCOS and weight loss.

You guys are the best. Thank you. I would never wish our journeys on anyone but the community of support you guys provide? Everyone should be so lucky. I hope I do the same for you.

The thoughts on my last post were precipitated by my first period this month. The hope began flickering- a period meant hope of future periods- of ovulation. I grew more hopeful about three weeks ago when I had the telltale signs of ovulation right on time. I am not ready to try again, but I took this as a sign that I'd be one of those people whose bodies became normal after having a child.

No period.

I'm now quite late- I've been bloated, crampy, PMS-y but- no period. It might come. I hope it will. But now its late. It's late. And it means that my friend PCOS is still here ready to party.

I'm not on Metformin, the one that helped regulate me because my OB said to hold off while I am nursing- so I'm trying to figure out what to do. The weight- despite my greatest efforts- is not budging. I can't fit into most of my clothes pre-pregnancy and the weight issue is beginning to take over my thoughts. This isn't me. I feel like I'm wearing a warm winter coat over my real body. But thanks to PCOS losing the weight is infinitely harder.

There are many reasons to lose weight. Feeling confident, fitting into clothes again, preventing diabetes, but most of all its getting rid of PCOS. My doctor says if I can lose the weight, the PCOS will go away.

Now that he's on solids I'm trying to be stricter with my diet. I want to fix this. As much as PCOS is a culprit hurting my metabolism, and making me fight harder than other people to see a drop in the scale- the truth? The truth is I do eat thing that are bad for me and I have to give myself longer than a month of not seeing the scale budge before I give up.

So here's hoping. Hoping that by May. My son's birthday- I can be at a normal BMI again like I was once-upon-a-time- I'd like to think that I don't want to try again until I'm there- but then I wonder if I'll ever get there so I am hesitant to make such a bold assertion.

PS: I don't post much here because I am posting more at my regular non-anonymous site if you want the link just send me an e-mail- I've gotten over my paranoia on that :)

Thoughts on doubling joy

If anyone still reads this, just a note that this is about kids and might be the type of post I found hurtful or painful when I was in the trenches of IF.

Once upon a time I wanted four children. By the time I convinced my husband five years into our marriage, I was content with the idea of three. And then infertility and loss hit me with their anvils and I wondered if I would even get one.

Despite my deepest fears, I have my baby boy. And I am happy. For the first time in a very long time I'm not 'happy considering' or 'happy to the world though my heart is breaking in a million pieces inside." I did not realize it, but the past 2.5 years I was a very depressed person. I look back on some of these posts and I scarcely understand who wrote them? That wasn't me? It was infertility and loss and they had taken over my body and had spread their tentacles over my soul.

And for this reason when I think of adding to the happiness. Doubling my joy. Trying for number two. I feel. . . overwhelmed. I want another child. So does my husband. Its important to us to have a sibling for W if we are lucky enough to conceive again. And this love for W- its like crack- and I'm an unabashed junkie now.

But.

W is my miracle baby. Conceived after a miscarriage when I bucked doctor's order to wait a cycle and just tried before even getting my period- it worked- he's here. He came because my second miscarriage gave me a normal ovulation after five years of wonky ovulation. The first time. Its dumb luck I convinced K to ignore the doctor. Had we waited, I can't be sure if I'd even have a child today.

So the thought of counting cycle days. Having sex and then wondering what may happen. Of Clomid. Of ovary monitoring. Metformin. Lovenox injections. Ultrasound appointments. And the ever present, always present fear of a miscarriage- of something going wrong- I have tears in my eyes as I consider it all. The destination is beautiful- it is marigolds and roses and unicorns- but the journey is scarier than the path to Mordor.

And I want so badly to try again. And I'm scared so badly too. Scared to relinquish my joy for worry once more. Scared of the waiting. The wondering. I'm sorry to sound graphic but if I have one more fetus slip through my body onto a cold floor I don't know if I can handle it.

But I have to handle it. I have to get used to blanks on pregnancy tests again. The feeling of failure. And scary doctor visits. I have to if I want what I want. Its just scary to consider right now.

I dont know if anyone still reads this but if you have any advice I would appreciate it very much.

Looking into the looking glass

We went to Red Lobster today. Ten dollar coupon. Endless shrimp. Why not, we thought. We sat down at the round table placed for us with just enough space to wedge W's stroller in so it was out of the way. He was on cute baby duty it seemed. He was giggling and squealing with delight. He was playing with his stuffed animals and trying to devour his toes. After a while he got squirmy and I lifted him up, and he grinned and babbled and sucked his thumb. He was Gerber Baby. Brown Gerber Baby. People kept stopping by to coo over him, to chuckle at his giddy joy at everything- the straw, the plate, my hair, everything he saw.

But ofcourse I saw the one couple- in their 40's sitting right across from us. The lady wore a pretty green shawl and had stylish black glasses. Her husband sat across from her with sandy gray hair and his shoulders slightly hunched. They stared at him too, and they smiled- but I recognized the smile. Dammit. I recognized it and I knew there was heartbreak behind that smile. I know I'm assuming. Maybe she is the mother of twelve bouncing boys all too busy to join their parents for dinner, but you know. Sometimes you just know. Because I could see myself from the outside. This couple sitting in the middle of the room, bouncing a baby boy, singing to him while he giggled and cooed- and I know I would have looked over my shoulder and smiled just like that while a million knives stabbed my heart.

Its not like I feel guilty all the time. But moments like this hurt because I see it from their eyes and I want to hug them and I want to say it will be okay- except I don't know that. Except that for some people, its just too late.

Does it get easier? This survivor's guilt?

Twitter, oh dear

Well I decided that since I'm trying to get a book published- I should get active on the social networking sites that everyone talks about: twitter. I'm slowly getting the hang of it, its kind of fun. Are you guys on it? If so please leave me your handle (or whatever they call it) and I'll add you so I can follow you :)

Infertility and Trains

On the airport train en route to our flight to Denver, I smiled as all the passengers of the tram smiled and cooed over my baby. What a smile! His eyes light up! Aw what a flirt! I grinned and nodded and thanked people for their congratulations and kind words. One passenger turned to a woman, in her early fifties if I was to guess, standing next to him, a colleague it seemed, and asked how many kids do you have? She smiled and said none. We tried since we got married but it never happened. She paused, the smile still frozen on her face. Yep, we tried, we wanted it, but it didn't happen. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

My husband and I looked at each other. We didn't have to say a word. We knew what the other was thinking. And I'm pretty sure I don't have to tell you because you know exactly what it feels like to be her. It hurt my heart that this woman had to endure a train full of people oggling a baby making statements like this is what life is all about all the while she stood there smiling politely. When I can I do tell people the struggles I faced, but on this train ride, a full minute in length, throngs of people gripping metal bars surrounding me, how could I?

We had lunch with a co-worker of my husband's today. She loves kids and also could never have any. She held W and kissed him on the cheek. He giggled and cooed and adored her. She doesn't know I was in her shoes too. . . and at a meal of project cuts and site visits where the mention of infertility never even made a peep how could I tell her?

And who does telling help? Does it just help ease my survivor's guilt? Does it really matter? It doesn't change the facts. They did not get their heart's desire. I try not to pull myself into a tailspin at moments like these of why me not them? Because what good does it do? It never helped when it was the other way, why them, why not me? It surely can't help now either.

Moments like this remind me that I may have a child but infertility and loss have forever changed me. I kiss him more than I probably should. I find myself gazing into his eyes unable to look away. Sleepless nights. Tearful tantrums. All things that I thought I would surely lose my patience on, I handle with a grace that is not typical of how I normally operate when faced with challenging circumstances.

That's the good side of life after infertility. The other side is the way your stomach drops when you meet someone still in the trenches. When you remember what you left behind. For better and worse, whether I have just this one child or five more, infertility is like a bullet lodged deep within me, one that no matter how hard you try will remain exactly where it is. You are free from its dangerous grip- but its imprint will always remain.

This and that**updated

• It's been a while since I've posted. I post slightly more at my other site, and since I can't find the hours in the day to send out the e-mail I will most certainly take down the link by the end of the weekend but if you want to follow me over I'd be most honored. I love comments, but please no references to this blog :) This is my private one where I can write about things I don't want everyone (i.e. family, friends) reading.
• Little guy is not sleeping anymore. We went from 5 hours stretches, to 6, to 7!! And then down to waking every 2-3 hours nightly like clockwork. I am feeling like a zombie due to sleep deprivation, as though I've been transported back into the early days of having a baby. Not just that, he used to lay in the crib without a fuss and coo and chat to himself and fall asleep, now its a 45 minute production of tears and screams to get him in bed. I thought it got easier, not harder?!
• I'm worried my milk supply is the cause. Last night we gave him a bottle of formula for its purported ability to keep a sleeping baby sleeping longer and I pumped out of curiosity to see how much milk I was making. 3 ounces total. 3 lousy ounces to feed a 14+ pound baby. I've heard that baby extracts more than the pump so I might have more but I'm wondering if milk supply is the reason.
• Although this theory was a tiny bit eroded last night since he woke up 2 hours after the bottle screaming. This time I gave him tylenol, he instantly quieted down and fell asleep. So maybe this is all teething related? The white buds are under his gums waiting to come out. He's got a lot of teeth- I guess I'll be sleep deprived for a while if this is the case.
• But my doctor thinks its my diet. I joined weight watchers. I was doing GREAT on it. Losing 2 pounds a week for a total of 7 pounds to date. I NEVER lose weight like that (thank you PCOS) but his sleep deprivation coincided with this. I talked to a LLL volunteer who also agreed it might be my diet. I've been advised not to lose weight at all, but I feel like I'm wearing a fat suit and I want to get out of it! And WW does give you points if your'e nursing. I'm able to eat VERY well on the diet. I mean, two eggs with toast for breakfast, pasta for dinner! I'm not exactly starving. I don't get it.
• Do you have any advice on baby sleep regression? I can't imagine letting him cry it out. I tried it for four minutes last night and I was a hysterical sobbing mess. Just can't do it. Any advice on weight loss? Milk supply issues? Battling the inability to sleep once the baby is asleep because your'e lying in wait for him to awake next?? I've ordered fenugreek, I eat fennel seeds every day as is, and I'm now adding oatmeal. Sigh.
• But let me be clear, the fat suit, the insomnia, the hysterical shrieks of my bebe- wouldn't have it any other way. I am happy. So happy he's here. I don't take THAT for granted.

Updated to add, the past two days I ate whatever I wanted, like a nut, and today when I pumped I got out 6.5 ounces. Yep- food is definitely a factor. Sigh. I really want to lose this weight but not at the cost of giving up nursing which I worked SOOOO hard to stick to and which I actually now love doing. It's weird to bemoan that I MUST eat to my heart's content but I really feel motivated to shed the weight. weird.

Kate, I was told that if you start solids at 4 months it can issues but everyone I know who has started at four are just fine. Did you do any reading on this?