Strange to be back here again, yet, here I am. Thought I might as well start logging my thoughts on infertility again, as I've finally taken some action today, after a very long hiatus. I went back my beloved RE this morning, for the first time in almost 2 years.
It was a surreal experience, sitting in front of him and listening to him recite my 5 history from notes on his computer screen, "Clomid in 2004 and 2005 with no response....protracted IUI cycle in 2006 resulting in an egg reduction procedure and mild ovarian hyperstimulation....IVF cycle in 2007, 14 eggs retrieved, all mature, all 14 fertilized, half of them abnormally. unsuccessful. recommended another round of IVF with addition of ICSI and assisted hatching..."
I sat across from the good doctor feeling somewhat accomplished. I'm 80 pounds lighter than last I saw him. I told him that for the first time in my life I had been having "regular" (40-ish day long) periods. I told him I had been waiting for a miracle. He smiled and said that response was common, human nature, understandable.
I told him I had said the same thing to my ob-gyn 2 months ago, who promptly responded, "You are 38. You don't have time to wait for miracles. Go back to your RE as soon as possible. Make an appointment today."
It took me two months to work up the nerve to jump back into this. In large part, I'm absolutely dreading it. A smaller part of me is starting to feel hopeful again, after only one consultation. I think that is very, very dangerous. Dangerous, but inevitable.
In the almost 2 years that have elapsed since we were officially "in treatment", my personality has changed. For the better, in my opinion. Granted, I may have been in denial during that time. But, it was a far more pleasant existence, being off of the roller coaster. I was able to set all of the constant plaguing daily heartache aside for a while. As I've said before, infertility is a problem that never goes away and has no good solution, no matter how often you analyze it, no matter how many different ways you look at it and turn it around in your mind. It's exhausting to have it top of mind every day. I don't miss walking around with my emotions and vulnerability so very close to the surface. I don't miss bursting into tears for no reason whatsoever. I don't miss feeling pitiful and pathetic and like a failure every day. I am so very fearful of going back to that place, and being that person again.
For practical reasons, I'm also dreading the logistics of getting back into a treatment cycle. I'm working longer hours and have a much more demanding schedule than I have since we began "trying" all those years ago, and I can't quite imagine how this is going to work this time around. The idea of telling my colleagues that I can't schedule any meetings before 10am is laughable.
But, we had some heart to heart talks, my wonderful hubs and me, and decided that there will never be a good or favorable time for getting back into this - not financially, nor physically, nor mentally. We must make it a priority whether we like it or not, because the statistics are stacked against us. No spring chickens, we two.
So. Here I am again. Preparing for another ride on the roller coaster...
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Has it really been 4 months?
Wow, it's been quite a while since I felt I had anything to say on this blog that would be worth anyone's time to read about.
I guess the bad news is that nothing much has changed. IVF is still our only hope, and we still can't seem to commit to a plan for how to fund another try. I still feel like our time is running out. R turned 39 this month, which means I'm not very far from 38 now. Not the end of the world of course, doesn't mean pregnancy is impossible, but certainly doesn't do anything to improve our odds, either.
I suppose the good news is that I'm not as despondent about infertility on a daily basis as I have been in the past. I think that is because the longer we are stalled, the longer I allow myself to be apathetic about it, the easier it gets to....not do anything. I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to being embroiled in a treatment cycle again, taking the injections, conforming our daily lives around the cycle, opening my heart up to hope again, bracing for the inevitable crash....I'm really dreading having to go through that all over again, actually. But still, if a big pile of money fell out of the sky tomorrow, I'd haul it straight to the RE's office and plunk it down, sign up for another chance.
We entertained R's family this afternoon and evening....had our usual Sunday afternoon cookout, as we do most Sundays in the summer. Today there were 15 adults, 7 children, and 2 dogs running around in our little house. It was a madhouse, of course, but we loved it. At the end of the evening, R's cousin asked if her 3 kids could take a quick bath before they left. They had to drive at least 45 minutes to get home, and she knew all 3 would be conked out in the car and difficult to harangue into the bathtub once they got home.
The sight of those 3 precious and precocious little ones in my bathtub pulled at me in a way that seeing them run around all day had not. As I helped to dry them off and muscle them into their 3 sets of clean and color coordinated PJ's, my main thought, of course, is that I should have been bathing my own children in our bathtub, not someone else's. I should have been putting PJ's on kids in a room decorated with zoo animals and ABC's, not in the room that serves as our "extra den" instead.
But remarkably, bitterness and self pity did not overtake me tonight, as they so often have in similar situations in the past. I feel a sense of hope about it all....although I can't say I know exactly why. Maybe because after all this time I still believe in miracles. Because I think R and I are good people, and because I still believe that good things do happen to good people. For tonight, that's enough reason to keep hoping.
I guess the bad news is that nothing much has changed. IVF is still our only hope, and we still can't seem to commit to a plan for how to fund another try. I still feel like our time is running out. R turned 39 this month, which means I'm not very far from 38 now. Not the end of the world of course, doesn't mean pregnancy is impossible, but certainly doesn't do anything to improve our odds, either.
I suppose the good news is that I'm not as despondent about infertility on a daily basis as I have been in the past. I think that is because the longer we are stalled, the longer I allow myself to be apathetic about it, the easier it gets to....not do anything. I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to being embroiled in a treatment cycle again, taking the injections, conforming our daily lives around the cycle, opening my heart up to hope again, bracing for the inevitable crash....I'm really dreading having to go through that all over again, actually. But still, if a big pile of money fell out of the sky tomorrow, I'd haul it straight to the RE's office and plunk it down, sign up for another chance.
We entertained R's family this afternoon and evening....had our usual Sunday afternoon cookout, as we do most Sundays in the summer. Today there were 15 adults, 7 children, and 2 dogs running around in our little house. It was a madhouse, of course, but we loved it. At the end of the evening, R's cousin asked if her 3 kids could take a quick bath before they left. They had to drive at least 45 minutes to get home, and she knew all 3 would be conked out in the car and difficult to harangue into the bathtub once they got home.
The sight of those 3 precious and precocious little ones in my bathtub pulled at me in a way that seeing them run around all day had not. As I helped to dry them off and muscle them into their 3 sets of clean and color coordinated PJ's, my main thought, of course, is that I should have been bathing my own children in our bathtub, not someone else's. I should have been putting PJ's on kids in a room decorated with zoo animals and ABC's, not in the room that serves as our "extra den" instead.
But remarkably, bitterness and self pity did not overtake me tonight, as they so often have in similar situations in the past. I feel a sense of hope about it all....although I can't say I know exactly why. Maybe because after all this time I still believe in miracles. Because I think R and I are good people, and because I still believe that good things do happen to good people. For tonight, that's enough reason to keep hoping.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Still here.....
I confess that I have been avoiding this blog. And I have also been avoiding all of your blogs. I know, selfish, right? I can't help it. The IF blogosphere has really depressed me since the New Year.
We don't really have any concrete plans set in place in terms of 'trying' in the near future. My body has refused to cooperate with our desire to start a family for almost 3 and a half years now. Because of the PCOS, I don't ovulate, so there's no chance for us to turn up miraculously pregnant while trying on our own. For what it's worth however, I refuse to remain on birth control pills while in limbo. Instead, every 2 or so months I call my RE's office to get a prescription for progesterone to induce a period. For the privelege of this endometrial-cancer staver-offer I must submit to a pointless pregnancy test administered in the RE's office.
I went for one at the end of January. It was very, very strange. I felt like I didn't belong there, like everyone could see that I wasn't really trying and why was I wasting the time of the staff there. Just months before I had felt like that waiting area was my second home. I knew all the nurses by name. I felt productive and dedicated and hopeful when I was climbing in and out of the stirrups 4 and 5 times a week. When I went in January I felt like a fraud and an outsider. It was weird to feel so far removed from that whole 'sisterhood of cycling' thing.
I guess I was also feeling that way about this blogging community. I can't read the blogs of those who are pregnant. I know I don't have to justify that to anyone, even though it does feel really shitty to admit it right out loud. And for every happy preggy blogger, there seem to be as many heartwrenching losses in our community of late as well. Reading about the horrific pain that so many are in, particularly Mary Ellen and Steve after losing their triplets - it just makes me nauseous and sick. And in this limbo-land, reading all the other blogs of those who are back up in the saddle (and stirrups) and are earnestly, hopefully, dutifully trying again - those just make me feel like a lazy loser.
The fact is that our only, only, onliest hope is IVF. And we simply cannot afford it right now. Who knows when we will be able to do so? There's a potential recession coming. We've had unforeseen expenses over the last 6 months, smaller bonuses and tax returns than we were expecting, and the housing market continues to decline. So, I honestly don't know when the next opportunity might be for R's sperm to meet one of my eggs. Possibly not until next year, by which time R will be 39 and I will be 38. Lately I've allowed myself to think about the fact that it might just be too late for us. I have prayed and railed and asked God - are we not meant to be parents? I still have no answers of course.
I'm just trying to take things day by day. As of tonight, I'm caught up on all of your blogs, and although I probably won't be commenting as much as I have in the past, please know that I'm back and keeping up with all of you again.
For my own sanity, I'm going to try to post my thoughts more often here, and not just when I'm feeling particularly sad. I promise to blog some joyful things every once in a while, as I have SO many things to be thankful for. As melancholy as this post has come out - there is still much joy in my life. I'm trying very hard to concentrate on it!
We don't really have any concrete plans set in place in terms of 'trying' in the near future. My body has refused to cooperate with our desire to start a family for almost 3 and a half years now. Because of the PCOS, I don't ovulate, so there's no chance for us to turn up miraculously pregnant while trying on our own. For what it's worth however, I refuse to remain on birth control pills while in limbo. Instead, every 2 or so months I call my RE's office to get a prescription for progesterone to induce a period. For the privelege of this endometrial-cancer staver-offer I must submit to a pointless pregnancy test administered in the RE's office.
I went for one at the end of January. It was very, very strange. I felt like I didn't belong there, like everyone could see that I wasn't really trying and why was I wasting the time of the staff there. Just months before I had felt like that waiting area was my second home. I knew all the nurses by name. I felt productive and dedicated and hopeful when I was climbing in and out of the stirrups 4 and 5 times a week. When I went in January I felt like a fraud and an outsider. It was weird to feel so far removed from that whole 'sisterhood of cycling' thing.
I guess I was also feeling that way about this blogging community. I can't read the blogs of those who are pregnant. I know I don't have to justify that to anyone, even though it does feel really shitty to admit it right out loud. And for every happy preggy blogger, there seem to be as many heartwrenching losses in our community of late as well. Reading about the horrific pain that so many are in, particularly Mary Ellen and Steve after losing their triplets - it just makes me nauseous and sick. And in this limbo-land, reading all the other blogs of those who are back up in the saddle (and stirrups) and are earnestly, hopefully, dutifully trying again - those just make me feel like a lazy loser.
The fact is that our only, only, onliest hope is IVF. And we simply cannot afford it right now. Who knows when we will be able to do so? There's a potential recession coming. We've had unforeseen expenses over the last 6 months, smaller bonuses and tax returns than we were expecting, and the housing market continues to decline. So, I honestly don't know when the next opportunity might be for R's sperm to meet one of my eggs. Possibly not until next year, by which time R will be 39 and I will be 38. Lately I've allowed myself to think about the fact that it might just be too late for us. I have prayed and railed and asked God - are we not meant to be parents? I still have no answers of course.
I'm just trying to take things day by day. As of tonight, I'm caught up on all of your blogs, and although I probably won't be commenting as much as I have in the past, please know that I'm back and keeping up with all of you again.
For my own sanity, I'm going to try to post my thoughts more often here, and not just when I'm feeling particularly sad. I promise to blog some joyful things every once in a while, as I have SO many things to be thankful for. As melancholy as this post has come out - there is still much joy in my life. I'm trying very hard to concentrate on it!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Angel in Alabama
Sometime last week, just a few short days after pouring out my heartache on this blog, I arrived home to find a package on my doorstep. It turned out to be an unexpected gift from Kellie, my angel in Alabama.
She sent me a beautiful little figurine, as well as the most inspiring and tear-jerking card you've ever read. Kellie's main message was this: I understand your pain, I'm sorry you're hurting, and there is reason to hope.
This unbelievably kind gesture from a woman 1,000 miles away who I've never even met - it lifted me up indescribably. It also brought on yet another freshet of tears - but not the same desperate kind of the past few weeks. These were tears to acknowledge that Kellie's words might? will? definitely will? come true: "K, you WILL be a mom."
This beautiful little figurine, with its little arms and hands outstretched, and its small face turned up to God - it's the last thing I look at before I go to bed each night. It is a heartwarming and much appreciated reminder to keep Hope alive.
Thank you Kellie, your gift means more to me than you will ever know!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Melodrama
I wish I could say I've thrown off the pall of sadness that was cloaking me the last time I posted (just before Thanksgiving.) Unfortunately, if anything, it's gotten worse. I feel so.......vulnerable, I guess. Kind of fragile - like any little thing could send me into a crying, pity-partying meltdown.
I feel anxious all the time, and more than that, I've become aware that I seem to be constantly bracing myself for hurtful news of some kind.
I look at our little dog Murphy lately and all I can think is how wrenchingly sad it will be when he eventually dies. He's only 9 years old, and I'm not expecting him to go any time soon. But for some reason I cry every night when I cuddle up with him, and wonder how I will be able to get out of bed and go on with my life when he dies.
Every time we see friends I find I'm bracing to hear that they are pregnant (again.) Or when the phone rings my brain kind of winces, wondering if there will be horrible or sad news, or some other hurtful knowledge on the other end of it.
I feel needy and dependent. The slightest mood change in R has me spiraling into thoughts that he's going to leave me...if not now, someday. I've lost my faith in happy endings. I feel cynical. Empty, except for the tears that seem to be always right behind my eyes.
I hate myself for being this pathetic person. I'm so weak. I have SO much to be thankful for, and I have to really FORCE myself to recognize that on a constant basis. I would much rather sit around feeling ridiculously sorry for myself. All the time.
I'm also an ingrate. R took me out to a fabulous, expensive, special and romantic dinner for my birthday a week and half ago. All his idea. Instead of enjoying spending a special evening with him, and savoring time spent together (which is really the most important thing), and appreciating the substantive price tag of the bottle of wine and filet mignon, I cried in the night like a 5 year old because he didn't give me an actual gift to open. AAACCKK! I'm so not this person.
My God, I just read over this and it's so freaking melodramatic. Blech!!!! But, it's what I'm really feeling. Ugh. I don't know how to snap out of this.
I'm simultaneously looking forward to this Saturday, and dreading it with my entire being. I'm forcing myself to attend an adoption 'convention' in DC, where I'll attend seminars to get educated on the facets of international vs. domestic adoption, open vs. closed, costs, timeframes, etc.
I want to go, and learn, and understand our options. I'm also weighed down by the idea of it - overcome with sadness. I keep picturing myself wandering all over this huge convention surrounded by pictures of babies and children who need someone to love them. It should feel empowering to educate myself about our options. Instead it makes me feel like sobbing until I can't stand up straight.
********************
I just had to dash off the bathroom. R just sent me an email that yet another couple, who got married right around the same time that we did, are now expecting their first child. They think it's a boy.
By this point I think we infertiles understand each other. You know that of course I'm happy for them - thrilled they don't have the same problems that we do. They must be so happy! How perfect to announce their pregnancy right around the holidays. That's what I've always dreamed of! These two are such a wonderful couple and will make fantastic, smart, compassionate, responsible parents. I bet their child will be gorgeous! And, OF COURSE I'm glad they are pregnant. I wouldn't wish infertility on my worst enemy.
But the truth is, when I first read the email I instantly starting crying. My first thoughts were: Poor me! Why not us? That should BE us! Oh God, please help us, our hearts are breaking! I don't know what to do anymore.
I feel anxious all the time, and more than that, I've become aware that I seem to be constantly bracing myself for hurtful news of some kind.
I look at our little dog Murphy lately and all I can think is how wrenchingly sad it will be when he eventually dies. He's only 9 years old, and I'm not expecting him to go any time soon. But for some reason I cry every night when I cuddle up with him, and wonder how I will be able to get out of bed and go on with my life when he dies.
Every time we see friends I find I'm bracing to hear that they are pregnant (again.) Or when the phone rings my brain kind of winces, wondering if there will be horrible or sad news, or some other hurtful knowledge on the other end of it.
I feel needy and dependent. The slightest mood change in R has me spiraling into thoughts that he's going to leave me...if not now, someday. I've lost my faith in happy endings. I feel cynical. Empty, except for the tears that seem to be always right behind my eyes.
I hate myself for being this pathetic person. I'm so weak. I have SO much to be thankful for, and I have to really FORCE myself to recognize that on a constant basis. I would much rather sit around feeling ridiculously sorry for myself. All the time.
I'm also an ingrate. R took me out to a fabulous, expensive, special and romantic dinner for my birthday a week and half ago. All his idea. Instead of enjoying spending a special evening with him, and savoring time spent together (which is really the most important thing), and appreciating the substantive price tag of the bottle of wine and filet mignon, I cried in the night like a 5 year old because he didn't give me an actual gift to open. AAACCKK! I'm so not this person.
My God, I just read over this and it's so freaking melodramatic. Blech!!!! But, it's what I'm really feeling. Ugh. I don't know how to snap out of this.
I'm simultaneously looking forward to this Saturday, and dreading it with my entire being. I'm forcing myself to attend an adoption 'convention' in DC, where I'll attend seminars to get educated on the facets of international vs. domestic adoption, open vs. closed, costs, timeframes, etc.
I want to go, and learn, and understand our options. I'm also weighed down by the idea of it - overcome with sadness. I keep picturing myself wandering all over this huge convention surrounded by pictures of babies and children who need someone to love them. It should feel empowering to educate myself about our options. Instead it makes me feel like sobbing until I can't stand up straight.
********************
I just had to dash off the bathroom. R just sent me an email that yet another couple, who got married right around the same time that we did, are now expecting their first child. They think it's a boy.
By this point I think we infertiles understand each other. You know that of course I'm happy for them - thrilled they don't have the same problems that we do. They must be so happy! How perfect to announce their pregnancy right around the holidays. That's what I've always dreamed of! These two are such a wonderful couple and will make fantastic, smart, compassionate, responsible parents. I bet their child will be gorgeous! And, OF COURSE I'm glad they are pregnant. I wouldn't wish infertility on my worst enemy.
But the truth is, when I first read the email I instantly starting crying. My first thoughts were: Poor me! Why not us? That should BE us! Oh God, please help us, our hearts are breaking! I don't know what to do anymore.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving
Well, I don't feel at all worthy of this, but my dear Jenna has suggested that I belong on her list of Distinguished Blogger Flame of Fortitude honorees. Although I humbly appreciate her tag - I've been feeling so un-thankful and un-thanksgiving-ish this week that it feels counterfeit to even post about this. Ugh.
I've been feeling so sad this week - I can't seem to get into any kind of holiday spirit. Usually by this time I'm feeling warm and fuzzy and spiritual and reflective and all of that. But this year I feel like I'm digging waaaaay down and the warm fuzzies just aren't coming. I'm going to try VERY hard tomorrow to dredge up some thankful-ness and put on a happy face and appreciate time with my family. But it won't be as natural as it normally is. I keep breaking into tears for inappropriate reasons and at inconvenient times. I had to race off to the bathroom several times at work this week before any one saw me having a "moment". I really, really hate feeling this pitiful.
I hope to post something much more cheerful, or at least productive, after we get back from Thanksgiving. Hope all of y'all in the US have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday tomorrow with your families and friends!
I've been feeling so sad this week - I can't seem to get into any kind of holiday spirit. Usually by this time I'm feeling warm and fuzzy and spiritual and reflective and all of that. But this year I feel like I'm digging waaaaay down and the warm fuzzies just aren't coming. I'm going to try VERY hard tomorrow to dredge up some thankful-ness and put on a happy face and appreciate time with my family. But it won't be as natural as it normally is. I keep breaking into tears for inappropriate reasons and at inconvenient times. I had to race off to the bathroom several times at work this week before any one saw me having a "moment". I really, really hate feeling this pitiful.
I hope to post something much more cheerful, or at least productive, after we get back from Thanksgiving. Hope all of y'all in the US have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday tomorrow with your families and friends!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Hello again!
I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted anything here - I'm sorry I've been such a silent blogger! I have, however, been diligently keeping up with all of you. There's been happy news out there, as well as deeply, deeply sad. I've been rejoicing and grieving right along with all of you.
So firstly, Congratulations to Faith! I've been reading along with her since before her successful IVF cycle. It's hard to believe it's been 9 months, and then some! Go and see her beautiful new boys, here.
And if you haven't already been over to visit Cam or Ann during this soul-crushingly sad time, please do - and if you're behind in your reading, like I was last month, go and give some love to ISOMorning Sickness, too. They all need our support now more than ever.
So, you may have guessed that since I haven't been fervently blogging and posting loads of detailed accounts of treatments lately, that we're taking a break. Oh the consternation that is bound up in that phrase: taking a break. Usually in our case all breaks have been physician-mandated ones - wait for a cyst to go away, wait for my lining to thin out, take another cycle of BCP's, etc. This time however, we mandated the break.
We were supposed to start IVF#2 when we came back from our annual Outer Banks beach vacation the first week of September. The several thousand dollar water-pipe repair emergency the second week of September put the kibosh on that month.
So then we were supposed to start in October.....but in the beginning of the month I suddenly realized the origin of the feelings of dread that I had been unconsciously carrying around for several weeks: I was dreading starting a new cycle. I had fallen into a comfort zone, pretending the problem didn't exist, or I was at least relieved not to be consumed by dates and calendars and shots and worries of impending doom for a while. I just blithely ignored the irony of taking my birth control pills each and every night, having been given license to do so by the perpetually pending cycle that was going to start any-minute-now. More than anything I realized how effing tired I am - bored, I would even say - with the whole being-infertile thing. I'm tired of being sad, I'm tired of agonizing over every cycle, I'm tired of worrying about where the money will come from to pay for treatments, I'm tired of structuring and scheduling every other part of lives around the unknown and un-plan-ahead-able requirements of treatments. I'm tired of saying to myself on every holiday or otherwise momentous occasion: I wonder if I'll be pregnant by this time next year? I'm tired of answering the question "Do you have kids?" with an answer like "Not yet!" I'm so, so, so tired of being the person that everyone feels sorry for. I'm even more sick and tired of feeling sorry for myself. I'm tired of thinking about fertility all the time, every day, every week, every month. I'm tired of feeling a sharp pang to the heart when I hear that someone else I know is pregnant, with their first, second, third child. I'm tired of waiting for my life with children to begin. I'm tired of hanging out with other people's children and wistfully thinking of the ones we don't have yet. I'm tired of thinking "someday." I want someday to be soon, now, today. I'm tired, dare I say it - of even talking about this! None of what we have been through in 3 years has made one iota of a difference to the bottom line - Nothing has changed in 3 years: I'm still not pregnant and we still don't have a child.
R and I had several long discussions in October about what we should do - or, I guess more accurately, when we should do it. We decided that it would be very difficult to face the emotional, financial, and physical stress of doing a cycle so close to Thanksgiving and Christmas. I was picturing myself fighting the throngs of people in the malls with bags of gifts and having to duck into messy public restrooms to stick myself with needles. Or being at Thanksgiving dinner all hopped up on hormones and bursting into tears for no outwardly apparent reason. Or receiving the crushing, blackening news of a failed cycle - malfunctioning body, money down the drain, yet another disappointing setback - just before Christmas.
I just didn't think I - we - could handle it. So we've decided to wait until January to embark upon IVF#2. It wasn't an easily reached decision however. At least, not for me. I'm all wound up about the fact that three days from now I'll turn 37. Only 3 years left until I'm 40. I can vividly remember when my mother turned 40, and I thought she was ancient. I don't feel ancient yet, certainly. But when I let myself contemplate the full weight of being thirty-seven years old.....I feel a sense of panic, like there's a rising tide that is swelling up faster and faster, and my legs are buried in the sand. I feel an overwhelming sense of urgency to do something, anything, just do it quick because time is running out! But yet, there's nothing else I can do. Is there?
Well, that actually brings up an issue for another post - I went to an adoption fair yesterday at work. I'll devote an entire post to that emotional event, next.
In other news, I've decided that during this non-cycling down time I should concentrate on eating healthier and losing some weight - getting more fruits and vegetables into my diet, and cutting out bad fats and bad sugars, etc. I decided to try Weight Watchers, for the first time in my life.
I've struggled with my weight my whole life. I went on my first diet when I was 9. I've had a lifelong love-hate relationship with my bathroom scale, let me tell you.
Anyway, one of the reasons I've always been turned off by Weight Watchers was the thought of those gruesome in-person Weight Watchers meetings where all the middle-aged ladies in their elastic waist pants congregate in the fellowship hall of the local baptist church and celebrate losing 1/8 of a pound every week and swap recipes for lightened up versions of tuna casserole. Blech!!!
So, maybe the fact that I finally decided to try this has something to do with the fact that I'm finally accepting my OWN middle-agedness? Or maybe it's because a co-worker told me she hates the idea of going to meetings too and that you can join 'anonymously' online. Who knows? But for better or worse I joined in October, and I've lost 16 pounds and one pants-size so far. Not bad. It hasn't really been that hard to adhere to - that really surprised me. The thing I really like about Weight Watchers is that you can eat anything - anything at all - and it doesn't cause a collapse of your whole diet/system/plan so as to send you into a tailspin and cause you to immediately throw in the towel and begin planning for when you'll RE-START at some point in the future. That is usually my downfall with diets - especially when I was doing Atkins years ago. One slice of bread and you were completely ruined! Knocked out of fat-burning ketosis by one bite of mashed potatoes! It would be days before you could get your bodily chemicals back into the precise balance required to burn the fat and lose weight! There's simply not enough wiggle room in a diet plan like that - at least not for me. It leads to the pound-packing mentality of - "Oh well, I've already gone off the plan today by eating that Snicker's mini from the Halloween candy bowl. It's all downhill from here. Might as well 86 that salad I was planning to eat for lunch and have a grilled cheese instead." But Weight Watchers is much more forgiving. If you eat the Snickers mini, it is not the end of the world, or even of your day. Just means you must adjust your food intake for the rest of the day to compensate. It makes for faaaar less guilt than I'm used to shouldering when it comes to food. This is sad to admit, but I've become accustomed to feeling guilty every time I eat something - no matter what it is. I think Weight Watchers helps people like me to let go of at least a little of that food-guilt, and for that reason I think it's been good for me so far.
But the season that is by far my biggest downfall during this time of year, the thing that strikes fear in my dieting, salad-munching, saturated-fat-avoiding heart, is well upon us. Thanksgiving, you ask? Christmas? Hanukkah? Kwanzaa? Nay, nay - even worse, and MUCH more insidious and long and draaaaawn out: Football Season. Aaaaaaggggjhhhhhhh!!!!
Every Sunday whilst watching the Redskins (lose) I'm assaulted by chicken wings, beer, chips, cheese dip, brownies, beer, chips, pizza, beer, chips....did I mention beer and chips? I'm a sucker for beer and chips. I think I could subsist on beer and chips alone, if the case arose on a deserted isle.... And the worst part is that all this food is usually at my OWN HOUSE! We tend to entertain very frequently during football season. So, invariably, if I'm tempted to go 'off-plan' as the Weight Watchers say, it's on Sundays.
So instead of serving the good stuff for all of our friends, and then forcing myself to either abstain or cry into my celery and carrot sticks all afternoon, I've endeavored to find some recipes for less fat-laden, but still football worthy things to serve on Sunday afternoons.
To wit, the delicious and road-tested recipes cut-and-pasted below (from the Weight Watcher's website.) Everyone at our house has enjoyed these, hope y'all will too. Enjoy!
(For anyone else who happens to be counting Weight Watchers Flex Points, the chicken wings recipe makes 4 servings at 4 points per serving, and the chili recipe makes 10 servings at only 1 point per serving, not including the baked tortilla chips you'll include for dipping.)
Buffalo Wings with Blue Cheese Dip
Ingredients
1 sprays olive oil cooking spray, or enough to coat sheet
12 oz uncooked skinless chicken wing(s)
1 1/4 oz Old El Paso Taco Seasoning Mix, or similar product
1/2 cup fat-free sour cream
2 Tbsp blue cheese, or gorgonzola, crumbled
2 Tbsp fat-free skim milk
4 medium stalk celery, cut into 2-inch pieces
Instructions
Preheat oven to 400ºF. Coat a large baking sheet with cooking spray.
Place chicken wings in a zip-close plastic bag, add taco seasoning, seal bag and shake to coat. Transfer wings to prepared baking sheet and bake until cooked through, about 18 to 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, to prepare dip, whisk together sour cream, cheese and milk.
Serve wings with dip and celery on the side. Yields about 3 wings, 3 tablespoons of dip and 1 celery stalk per serving.
Chili Party Dip
Ingredients
15 oz canned turkey chili without beans
8 oz fat-free cream cheese
4 oz canned jalapeno peppers
1 small onion(s), finely chopped
1/2 tsp hot pepper sauce
Instructions
Combine all ingredients in a saucepan.
Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until cheese melts, about 10 minutes. Yields about 1/4 cup per serving.
So firstly, Congratulations to Faith! I've been reading along with her since before her successful IVF cycle. It's hard to believe it's been 9 months, and then some! Go and see her beautiful new boys, here.
And if you haven't already been over to visit Cam or Ann during this soul-crushingly sad time, please do - and if you're behind in your reading, like I was last month, go and give some love to ISOMorning Sickness, too. They all need our support now more than ever.
So, you may have guessed that since I haven't been fervently blogging and posting loads of detailed accounts of treatments lately, that we're taking a break. Oh the consternation that is bound up in that phrase: taking a break. Usually in our case all breaks have been physician-mandated ones - wait for a cyst to go away, wait for my lining to thin out, take another cycle of BCP's, etc. This time however, we mandated the break.
We were supposed to start IVF#2 when we came back from our annual Outer Banks beach vacation the first week of September. The several thousand dollar water-pipe repair emergency the second week of September put the kibosh on that month.
So then we were supposed to start in October.....but in the beginning of the month I suddenly realized the origin of the feelings of dread that I had been unconsciously carrying around for several weeks: I was dreading starting a new cycle. I had fallen into a comfort zone, pretending the problem didn't exist, or I was at least relieved not to be consumed by dates and calendars and shots and worries of impending doom for a while. I just blithely ignored the irony of taking my birth control pills each and every night, having been given license to do so by the perpetually pending cycle that was going to start any-minute-now. More than anything I realized how effing tired I am - bored, I would even say - with the whole being-infertile thing. I'm tired of being sad, I'm tired of agonizing over every cycle, I'm tired of worrying about where the money will come from to pay for treatments, I'm tired of structuring and scheduling every other part of lives around the unknown and un-plan-ahead-able requirements of treatments. I'm tired of saying to myself on every holiday or otherwise momentous occasion: I wonder if I'll be pregnant by this time next year? I'm tired of answering the question "Do you have kids?" with an answer like "Not yet!" I'm so, so, so tired of being the person that everyone feels sorry for. I'm even more sick and tired of feeling sorry for myself. I'm tired of thinking about fertility all the time, every day, every week, every month. I'm tired of feeling a sharp pang to the heart when I hear that someone else I know is pregnant, with their first, second, third child. I'm tired of waiting for my life with children to begin. I'm tired of hanging out with other people's children and wistfully thinking of the ones we don't have yet. I'm tired of thinking "someday." I want someday to be soon, now, today. I'm tired, dare I say it - of even talking about this! None of what we have been through in 3 years has made one iota of a difference to the bottom line - Nothing has changed in 3 years: I'm still not pregnant and we still don't have a child.
R and I had several long discussions in October about what we should do - or, I guess more accurately, when we should do it. We decided that it would be very difficult to face the emotional, financial, and physical stress of doing a cycle so close to Thanksgiving and Christmas. I was picturing myself fighting the throngs of people in the malls with bags of gifts and having to duck into messy public restrooms to stick myself with needles. Or being at Thanksgiving dinner all hopped up on hormones and bursting into tears for no outwardly apparent reason. Or receiving the crushing, blackening news of a failed cycle - malfunctioning body, money down the drain, yet another disappointing setback - just before Christmas.
I just didn't think I - we - could handle it. So we've decided to wait until January to embark upon IVF#2. It wasn't an easily reached decision however. At least, not for me. I'm all wound up about the fact that three days from now I'll turn 37. Only 3 years left until I'm 40. I can vividly remember when my mother turned 40, and I thought she was ancient. I don't feel ancient yet, certainly. But when I let myself contemplate the full weight of being thirty-seven years old.....I feel a sense of panic, like there's a rising tide that is swelling up faster and faster, and my legs are buried in the sand. I feel an overwhelming sense of urgency to do something, anything, just do it quick because time is running out! But yet, there's nothing else I can do. Is there?
Well, that actually brings up an issue for another post - I went to an adoption fair yesterday at work. I'll devote an entire post to that emotional event, next.
In other news, I've decided that during this non-cycling down time I should concentrate on eating healthier and losing some weight - getting more fruits and vegetables into my diet, and cutting out bad fats and bad sugars, etc. I decided to try Weight Watchers, for the first time in my life.
I've struggled with my weight my whole life. I went on my first diet when I was 9. I've had a lifelong love-hate relationship with my bathroom scale, let me tell you.
Anyway, one of the reasons I've always been turned off by Weight Watchers was the thought of those gruesome in-person Weight Watchers meetings where all the middle-aged ladies in their elastic waist pants congregate in the fellowship hall of the local baptist church and celebrate losing 1/8 of a pound every week and swap recipes for lightened up versions of tuna casserole. Blech!!!
So, maybe the fact that I finally decided to try this has something to do with the fact that I'm finally accepting my OWN middle-agedness? Or maybe it's because a co-worker told me she hates the idea of going to meetings too and that you can join 'anonymously' online. Who knows? But for better or worse I joined in October, and I've lost 16 pounds and one pants-size so far. Not bad. It hasn't really been that hard to adhere to - that really surprised me. The thing I really like about Weight Watchers is that you can eat anything - anything at all - and it doesn't cause a collapse of your whole diet/system/plan so as to send you into a tailspin and cause you to immediately throw in the towel and begin planning for when you'll RE-START at some point in the future. That is usually my downfall with diets - especially when I was doing Atkins years ago. One slice of bread and you were completely ruined! Knocked out of fat-burning ketosis by one bite of mashed potatoes! It would be days before you could get your bodily chemicals back into the precise balance required to burn the fat and lose weight! There's simply not enough wiggle room in a diet plan like that - at least not for me. It leads to the pound-packing mentality of - "Oh well, I've already gone off the plan today by eating that Snicker's mini from the Halloween candy bowl. It's all downhill from here. Might as well 86 that salad I was planning to eat for lunch and have a grilled cheese instead." But Weight Watchers is much more forgiving. If you eat the Snickers mini, it is not the end of the world, or even of your day. Just means you must adjust your food intake for the rest of the day to compensate. It makes for faaaar less guilt than I'm used to shouldering when it comes to food. This is sad to admit, but I've become accustomed to feeling guilty every time I eat something - no matter what it is. I think Weight Watchers helps people like me to let go of at least a little of that food-guilt, and for that reason I think it's been good for me so far.
But the season that is by far my biggest downfall during this time of year, the thing that strikes fear in my dieting, salad-munching, saturated-fat-avoiding heart, is well upon us. Thanksgiving, you ask? Christmas? Hanukkah? Kwanzaa? Nay, nay - even worse, and MUCH more insidious and long and draaaaawn out: Football Season. Aaaaaaggggjhhhhhhh!!!!
Every Sunday whilst watching the Redskins (lose) I'm assaulted by chicken wings, beer, chips, cheese dip, brownies, beer, chips, pizza, beer, chips....did I mention beer and chips? I'm a sucker for beer and chips. I think I could subsist on beer and chips alone, if the case arose on a deserted isle.... And the worst part is that all this food is usually at my OWN HOUSE! We tend to entertain very frequently during football season. So, invariably, if I'm tempted to go 'off-plan' as the Weight Watchers say, it's on Sundays.
So instead of serving the good stuff for all of our friends, and then forcing myself to either abstain or cry into my celery and carrot sticks all afternoon, I've endeavored to find some recipes for less fat-laden, but still football worthy things to serve on Sunday afternoons.
To wit, the delicious and road-tested recipes cut-and-pasted below (from the Weight Watcher's website.) Everyone at our house has enjoyed these, hope y'all will too. Enjoy!
(For anyone else who happens to be counting Weight Watchers Flex Points, the chicken wings recipe makes 4 servings at 4 points per serving, and the chili recipe makes 10 servings at only 1 point per serving, not including the baked tortilla chips you'll include for dipping.)
Buffalo Wings with Blue Cheese Dip
Ingredients
1 sprays olive oil cooking spray, or enough to coat sheet
12 oz uncooked skinless chicken wing(s)
1 1/4 oz Old El Paso Taco Seasoning Mix, or similar product
1/2 cup fat-free sour cream
2 Tbsp blue cheese, or gorgonzola, crumbled
2 Tbsp fat-free skim milk
4 medium stalk celery, cut into 2-inch pieces
Instructions
Preheat oven to 400ºF. Coat a large baking sheet with cooking spray.
Place chicken wings in a zip-close plastic bag, add taco seasoning, seal bag and shake to coat. Transfer wings to prepared baking sheet and bake until cooked through, about 18 to 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, to prepare dip, whisk together sour cream, cheese and milk.
Serve wings with dip and celery on the side. Yields about 3 wings, 3 tablespoons of dip and 1 celery stalk per serving.
Chili Party Dip
Ingredients
15 oz canned turkey chili without beans
8 oz fat-free cream cheese
4 oz canned jalapeno peppers
1 small onion(s), finely chopped
1/2 tsp hot pepper sauce
Instructions
Combine all ingredients in a saucepan.
Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until cheese melts, about 10 minutes. Yields about 1/4 cup per serving.
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