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The Dr.'s visit's begin... (Part II: Surviving Infertility and Moving onto Adoption)
(PART II: Surviving Infertility and moving onto Adoption)
So the doctor's appointments begin. First, I visited my regular OB/GYN, I expressed my concern that I had been actively trying to get pregnant for over a year ( note: I fibbed, I had heard that doctors aren't typically proactive about beginning to diagnose infertility until you have been trying, without success, for at least a year). That doctor sent me home with some basic information and pointers on "how to get pregnant". She told me to start "charting" my basal body temperature.
What exactly was "charting" and what the hell was a basal body temperature?! Huh? I had no clue. Being the researcher that I am, and a damn good one at that, I went straight home, logging right onto the internet to find out what this was all about. I stumbled upon an infertility web-site/message board/community that I must say now, "What a God send!" I quickly learned all about charting and basal body temperature which was just basically logging my temperature at the same time each morning before I got out of bed to begin my day. A woman's temperature will spike right before she ovulates so charting is a helpful tool in pin-pointing that small window of opportunity each month that she can actually conceive.
I was now obsessed with this helpful web-site I had found and all the knowledge and advise those who frequented it had to offer. On the message board I soon found a small group of women that were in my area and all going to the same infertility clinic. We all became fast friends, sharing our struggles and frustrations with each other. I had finally found other women who could actually relate to what I was going through and were riding on the same emotional rollercoaster that I was. Once upon a time I was happy and excited for others who announced that they were expecting but now I found myself agitated, angry and jealous. It bothered me that I had these feeling but my new found friends validated my emotions because they too felt the exact same way. I had now become OBSESSED with getting pregnant and it was all that I could think about. My life revolved around researching and trying any and every "old wives tale" on how to get pregnant. Everything from taking special supplements, eating certain foods, too standing on my head after sex. Sex was no longer fun or intimate but had become a job and I was only interested in having it for one reason and one reason only, I wanted a baby. Fast forward, another six months have now passed so I decided to see an infertility specialist. Oh my god! I loved this doctor. He had an aggressive, positive, "we are gonna get you pregnant" attitude. We quickly scheduled for me to have minor laparoscopic surgery. During this procedure he did find and remove endometriosis and said he didn't see any reason now why I wouldn't be able to get pregnant very soon. He had given me a new found hope and I had a much better attitude about things. That lasted for about, eh, 3 months.
Infertility is so cruel.
Every month, I thought "this is it; this is the month that I'm going to get pregnant!" Each month I found a way to find the optimism and hope that I had lost the month before. Up and down, Up and down, as each month passed with no success it became more and more devastating. And each month it would take longer for me to pull myself back out of the depressing funk that I found myself in when I discovered that I was NOT pregnant again. My doctor had now prescribed infertility meds to help stimulate my ovaries into producing more eggs, more eggs was supposed to increase the odds of successful conception. These meds wrecked havoc on my body and one day I looked in the mirror and didn't even recognize myself. Thanks to the infertility induced depression and medication I was taking I had somehow gained over 40 pounds in what seemed like overnight. I was disgusted and I had a piss poor attitude to compliment the new, ugly, fat me.
(PART II: Surviving Infertility and moving onto Adoption)
So the doctor's appointments begin. First, I visited my regular OB/GYN, I expressed my concern that I had been actively trying to get pregnant for over a year ( note: I fibbed, I had heard that doctors aren't typically proactive about beginning to diagnose infertility until you have been trying, without success, for at least a year). That doctor sent me home with some basic information and pointers on "how to get pregnant". She told me to start "charting" my basal body temperature.
What exactly was "charting" and what the hell was a basal body temperature?! Huh? I had no clue. Being the researcher that I am, and a damn good one at that, I went straight home, logging right onto the internet to find out what this was all about. I stumbled upon an infertility web-site/message board/community that I must say now, "What a God send!" I quickly learned all about charting and basal body temperature which was just basically logging my temperature at the same time each morning before I got out of bed to begin my day. A woman's temperature will spike right before she ovulates so charting is a helpful tool in pin-pointing that small window of opportunity each month that she can actually conceive.
I was now obsessed with this helpful web-site I had found and all the knowledge and advise those who frequented it had to offer. On the message board I soon found a small group of women that were in my area and all going to the same infertility clinic. We all became fast friends, sharing our struggles and frustrations with each other. I had finally found other women who could actually relate to what I was going through and were riding on the same emotional rollercoaster that I was. Once upon a time I was happy and excited for others who announced that they were expecting but now I found myself agitated, angry and jealous. It bothered me that I had these feeling but my new found friends validated my emotions because they too felt the exact same way. I had now become OBSESSED with getting pregnant and it was all that I could think about. My life revolved around researching and trying any and every "old wives tale" on how to get pregnant. Everything from taking special supplements, eating certain foods, too standing on my head after sex. Sex was no longer fun or intimate but had become a job and I was only interested in having it for one reason and one reason only, I wanted a baby. Fast forward, another six months have now passed so I decided to see an infertility specialist. Oh my god! I loved this doctor. He had an aggressive, positive, "we are gonna get you pregnant" attitude. We quickly scheduled for me to have minor laparoscopic surgery. During this procedure he did find and remove endometriosis and said he didn't see any reason now why I wouldn't be able to get pregnant very soon. He had given me a new found hope and I had a much better attitude about things. That lasted for about, eh, 3 months.
Infertility is so cruel.
Every month, I thought "this is it; this is the month that I'm going to get pregnant!" Each month I found a way to find the optimism and hope that I had lost the month before. Up and down, Up and down, as each month passed with no success it became more and more devastating. And each month it would take longer for me to pull myself back out of the depressing funk that I found myself in when I discovered that I was NOT pregnant again. My doctor had now prescribed infertility meds to help stimulate my ovaries into producing more eggs, more eggs was supposed to increase the odds of successful conception. These meds wrecked havoc on my body and one day I looked in the mirror and didn't even recognize myself. Thanks to the infertility induced depression and medication I was taking I had somehow gained over 40 pounds in what seemed like overnight. I was disgusted and I had a piss poor attitude to compliment the new, ugly, fat me.
