I woke up this morning with a feeling of impending excitement/dread. Today was the day. At about 1:30 this afternoon, Dr. Hot would give me either good news or yet another disappointment.
I went to work, and though I had lots to do (for once), it was hard to concentrate. I left the office for a professional networking luncheon, but my heart just wasn’t in the mood for schmoozing. All I could think about was my appointment.
Finally, I got to the clinic, my heart pounding furiously, and Dr. Hot walked in the room. I gave him a nervous smile and leaned back, trying to relax in anticipation of the slightly uncomfortable contraption forcing its way into my nether regions.
Was I waiting to find out if I was pregnant? Was I breathless in anticipation of news about whether I was ovulating.
No. I was simply there to find out whether I could finally START TRYING TO GET PREGNANT AGAIN! That’s all. How pathetic. That, my friends, is one of the reasons why it takes PCOS women so long to get pregnant—because we wait, and wait, and wait-- just for the opportunity to try.
I had unexpectedly gotten my period on Sunday (remember, I had two ovarian cysts), and was in the office for a baseline ultrasound. I was terrified Dr. Hot would say the cysts were still rather large and I would have to sit out yet another cycle. Instead, he sent me home with the instructions to start taking Femara. I smiled at him and said, “Do you realize this is the first time you’ve given me good news?”
And so the games begin. Femara, please don’t forsake me. To borrow from K, all I need is one good egg.
Showing posts with label cysts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cysts. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
The verdict
The good news: I think I know why I’ve had problems getting my period. I definitely know why I’ve had cramping on my left side for the past week.
The bad news: I have two ovarian cysts. They’re both about 3 cm, which Dr. Hot says isn’t too incredibly big. I have to take a month off before we can even think about doing another cycle. I know many of you have had cysts, and I’d be interested in hearing about your experiences.
More bad news: Dr. Hot says the cysts, which have been bleeding into themselves, probably developed because of ovulation. I’m not sure if they’re follicular or corpus luteal. The problem? The last time I ovulated (Clomid-induced) was at the beginning of April. Which means I’ve already had more than a cycle to recover, yet the cysts are still a problem. I could kick myself, because I forgot to mention at my appointment that the only other time I ovulated on Clomid, I ended up in the ER after a corpus luteal cyst ruptured.
In other words, my body has to throw a hissy fit every time it ovulates. Or at least, every time it ovulates with the help of an ovulation induction drug. The solution, it would seem, would be to ovulate on my own. Except, of course, that I can’t. So here I sit--waiting, waiting, waiting.
Sharah’s post about trying to find balance really hit home with me. I’ve been focusing on the endgame, and in the process, glossing over other parts of my life. I’ve stopped scrapbooking temporarily. Why? Because I’ve scrapbooked with my SIL and a few members of the Mommy Club recently, and now my hobby is inextricably linked to those unpleasant memories. All I can think about is what I’m not scrapbooking—pictures of my child. I told myself I would start scrapbooking again when I got pregnant.
So many things in my life have hinged on getting pregnant. I think to myself that I’ll be able to handle a July family reunion more easily because “I might secretly be pregnant by then.” Now there’s not a chance of that happening. My 30th birthday is in October. I’ve told myself it will be a much happier occasion if I’m pregnant by then. I told M we wouldn’t put any money into a Roth IRA until I’m in the second trimester of a pregnancy, because I want our savings to be accessible for possible fertility treatments.
I just can’t do it anymore. Yesterday, after an emotional afternoon at work, I went for a walk at home. It had been a gloomy day, but the sun was back to shining gloriously. I suddenly felt this tremendous peace, and tears filled my eyes. God is going to work it out, somehow. I have to hold on to that peace, and not dismiss it because I prefer to be miserable. I have to live my life with infertility in the background, not the foreground.
I’m going to try to make time to scrapbook sometime this week.
The bad news: I have two ovarian cysts. They’re both about 3 cm, which Dr. Hot says isn’t too incredibly big. I have to take a month off before we can even think about doing another cycle. I know many of you have had cysts, and I’d be interested in hearing about your experiences.
More bad news: Dr. Hot says the cysts, which have been bleeding into themselves, probably developed because of ovulation. I’m not sure if they’re follicular or corpus luteal. The problem? The last time I ovulated (Clomid-induced) was at the beginning of April. Which means I’ve already had more than a cycle to recover, yet the cysts are still a problem. I could kick myself, because I forgot to mention at my appointment that the only other time I ovulated on Clomid, I ended up in the ER after a corpus luteal cyst ruptured.
In other words, my body has to throw a hissy fit every time it ovulates. Or at least, every time it ovulates with the help of an ovulation induction drug. The solution, it would seem, would be to ovulate on my own. Except, of course, that I can’t. So here I sit--waiting, waiting, waiting.
Sharah’s post about trying to find balance really hit home with me. I’ve been focusing on the endgame, and in the process, glossing over other parts of my life. I’ve stopped scrapbooking temporarily. Why? Because I’ve scrapbooked with my SIL and a few members of the Mommy Club recently, and now my hobby is inextricably linked to those unpleasant memories. All I can think about is what I’m not scrapbooking—pictures of my child. I told myself I would start scrapbooking again when I got pregnant.
So many things in my life have hinged on getting pregnant. I think to myself that I’ll be able to handle a July family reunion more easily because “I might secretly be pregnant by then.” Now there’s not a chance of that happening. My 30th birthday is in October. I’ve told myself it will be a much happier occasion if I’m pregnant by then. I told M we wouldn’t put any money into a Roth IRA until I’m in the second trimester of a pregnancy, because I want our savings to be accessible for possible fertility treatments.
I just can’t do it anymore. Yesterday, after an emotional afternoon at work, I went for a walk at home. It had been a gloomy day, but the sun was back to shining gloriously. I suddenly felt this tremendous peace, and tears filled my eyes. God is going to work it out, somehow. I have to hold on to that peace, and not dismiss it because I prefer to be miserable. I have to live my life with infertility in the background, not the foreground.
I’m going to try to make time to scrapbook sometime this week.
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