Enough

I’m haven’t update in such a long time. I feel almost embarrassed to post. My endo visits have been all but unproductive lately, mostly because of my lack of motivation. I feel guilty, embarrassed and ashamed. I want to have a baby so badly, but I’m just not doing as I’m being told. After visiting her twice and receiving back my blood test, I was told my testosterone was too high. Not incredibly high, but enough to screw up my body. I had noticed a lot more chin hairs lately, plus the weight I had slowly put on was mostly on my upper body, “wrestler type”, but I didn’t put it together.

The Endo and spoke and we decided to wait to TTC for now, and I was placed on Diane (birth control) and Androcur (a testosterone blocker) for 3 months. I left her office disappointed and discouraged. What bothered me more was that I failed the goal I had made 7 weeks prior to my last appointment… to lose weight. I’ll be honest, I’ve never been a size 6 and I’ve never weighed 115 pounds. Maybe when I was 10? Who knows! I’m only 5’4 and my body, for as long as I can remember, has had curves. When I was younger, I thought I was HUGE. Now that I look back, I was the right weight and shape for my height. Society and peer pressure has seriously jaded my opinion of my body throughout my lifetime.

When I was 19, I think my body was at it’s best. I was about 150 and the weight was proportionally all in the right place. I felt confident and had tons of energy. When I turned 23 and got married, I went off the pill and all hell broke loose. Weight gain, hair loss, acne, chin hairs, no periods at all… it was hell. My self esteem plummeted and my marriage became rocky and ended. After many test and procedures, the conclusion was PCOS. I was devastated. Too much, too soon. It all hit me like a brick wall.

“Get on the scale.” The endo as she read my chart. “You weighed in at 187 seven weeks ago. Lets see how much you’ve lost.” My heard sunk as I slowly walked to the scale. Although my clothes felt a little lose, I knew I hadn’t lost weight. I had weighed myself earlier in the morning and was at that same weight. “185. Two pounds.” She said after sliding the little square weight thing all over the place. She glanced and we made eye contact, then she looked down at the chart and started to write things down again. I couldn’t help but think she felt disappointed. Not that she did, but the look said it all. “Well, your blood pressure is okay and I’m glad you’re losing weight. I know it can be difficult.” She continued to write things down and not make eye contact.

“My pants fit looser but I’m just not seeing it on the scale.” I said hanging my head in disappointment. She remained quiet and walked to her desk.

“Sit down honey.” She said taking a breath. That was the beginning of a long lecture. My endo was right though. My body is all kinds of messed up. It’s up to ME to fix it. It’s already proven that I can get pregnant when I lose weight. Now that I’m on Met, it might help keep me pregnant. I can’t blame anyone else. It’s no one’s fault BUT my own. If I want to get pregnant, I have to do something about it. I have lose the weight. I have to fix my hormones. I have to exercise and make my body healthy. I have to make the changes. It’s like that saying, “If you what you’ve always done, you get what you’ve always gotten.”

I must say that one of my biggest loves (besides my family, the ocean and the sky) has always been food. I just LOVE food. Bread is sexy. Sugar makes me hot. Pasta… well, we won’t talk about pasta. –smiles- I have to change my relationship with food though. I have to end my love affair with it and start to adore fruits, veggies, fish and chicken. I have to stop and think of what I’m putting in my mouth. I have to walk wherever I can and take the stairs. I shouldn’t just “go on a diet,” but “change my way of living.” I HATE being fat. HATE it. It’s not only TTC, but everyday life. My self esteem, my sex life, my energy level… it’s all gone down BECAUSE I HATE the way my body looks.

After I got home, I cried so hard. I felt like a failure. To make things worse, I did exactly what I shouldn’t have done. I sat down with a box of oreo cookies and a big glass of milk and just… ate. I ate away my sadness. After I was done, I felt HORRIBLE. This was the first time I had EVER done this. This is not me. So, what did I do? I continued the pig-out fest for the next few days.

When the Diane and the Androcur started kicking me butt, I felt HORRIBLE. I was exhausted, my boobs hurt and all I wanted to do was sleep. This has continued pretty much since them, until four days ago. It ate pretty much whatever I could because of the nausea. Cheese sandwiches? Yes please. Raviolis and bread with butter? Sure thing!

Then four days ago, I started to feel better. As I lay in bed, I started reevaluating the situation. Who was I hurting by over eating? I was only hurting myself. I realized then that with every piece of cake, with every chocolate and bread I ate, I was pushing away a baby from my life. With every sandwich and hamburger, I was guaranteeing the lights would be off when my boyfriend and I made love. It just kinda… clicked, right then and there. I realized I was hurting myself and killing my vision of having a baby.

Being that I wasn’t dying of exhaustion, I decided to take advantage of it. I started walking and using a pedometer to keep track. I walked on the 28th but I never saved the post and I accidentally erased it when I logged in today. –sigh- Here's what I remember though...

Sept. 28,2010
Steps: -
Distance (mi): 1.-
Calories: 100.-
Time (min): 38.00
Avg. Speed (m/h): -

Sept. 30, 2010
Steps: 2585
Distance (mi): 1.147
Calories: 90.4
Time (min): 23.20
Avg. Speed (m/h): 2.9

Here are my other stats. Sad little stats they are...

My last weigh-in...

May 29th, 2010
Highest Weight: 199 lbs
First weigh-in's weight: 193.8 lbs
Current Weight: 182.6 lbs
Lowest Weight: 135 lbs

My weigh in the day before yesterday...

September 28th, 2010
Highest Weight: 199 lbs
First weigh-in's weight: 193.8 lbs
Current Weight: 189.6 lbs
Lowest Weight: 135 lbs

My poor little butterfly is pissed on now. It had to fly backwards. :(



I’m on day 13 of Diane and Androcur. I stop Androcur in 2 days and Diane ends on day 21. Then there are 7 days when my period should come and the cycle of meds begin again. That will be month 2. For the last four days, I have eating healthy and have been happy. I am hoping to go grocery shopping later today and will most likely begin my low carb diet. It NEED this for myself.

I'm going to make the change. I know I've said this a thousand times, but this is it. I'm going to give it my all for the next year. I know I have a thousand other things to juggle (like finding a full time job), but I have my boyfriend's full support, along with my family's unconditional love, but I know I can do it. I can fix my body and give it the best chance to have a baby. If we our best and nothing works though, then we will probably give up on the whole pregnancy thing (at least for a while) and start researching foster care and adoption. I know we will love ANY child God sends our way.

I know this post is super long, but I’ve had so much emotions, concerns and anger in my heart. I just wanted to get it all out. If you can relate, have advice or comments, please let me know. I need all the support I can get. I feel like I’m climbing a never ending mountain and having people around who know what I’m dealing with means so much to me.

<3 Aymen

Faith

“More than a 50 people have seen my Ladyville,” I thought to myself as my gynecologist was checking me out yesterday. I looked up to the ceiling and started counting each doctor I had seen since my quest began to get pregnant. I got up to 10, but then realized that they were the most recent ones and I just couldn’t remember the rest.

I’m not sure if you recall, but the fabulous Dr. Rory sent me to a specialist after our little embarrassing moment. After calling local doctors and finding out the cost to see one on my own (I currently do not have insurance so every test, visit and medicine has been paid out-of-pocket), I quickly decided that I was going to accept fab Dr. Rory’s recommendation and went to my appointment. He said Dr. Shay (name changed to protect her wonderful self lol) is a specialist with PCOS and not only has her own practice, but works one day a week at Planned Parenthood. Score! A real doctor and I don’t have to pay for it!

After filling out papers, peeing in a cup “just in case” I was pregnant *rolling my eyes* and waiting an hour among teenage girls needing birth control, or PRAYING not to be pregnant or infested with STD’s, I was called. The medical assistant walked me over to the little area where the pee cups were and there sat my little test, with one little sad lines. I was crushed when I notices that the other cups had test strips with two lines on them. I had a feeling the owners of the other cups wouldn’t have been as happy as I would have been in my test had two lines.

She looked down at my test, wrote something down and then asked me to follow her to the doctor’s office. That’s where I met the wonderful Dr. Shay.

I sat with her for about 10 minutes and we discussed the situation. Usually, she’s not suppose to help girls get pregnant. Planned Parenthood helps girls and guys protect themselves and pushes family planning. She was so sweet and understood my situation. After she drew a chart explaining what was going on with my body (DAMN YOU PCOS), she walked me over to where she would check Ladyville out.

After a few minutes of laying there trying to count the doctors who have seen Ladyville, she decided to check my ovaries. She said they felt normal and told me everything looked good. It made me feel hopeful. She then told me that what I’ve told her and from what she’s seen in the blood results, she suggested that I keep losing weight and go on birth control for 3 months. *POP* Went the bubble of hope I had floating over me.

NOOOOO! Not the dreaded BCP!

She said that being that I just had the longest AF and the biggest clots, she suggested that I get my hormones in order first, then to come back after I was almost done with my BCPs and we would take the next step then. She also suggested that my BF have his little men checked, so we know all is good.

I’m speechless, but I think I will do as she wishes. As much as I wanted to start the TTC journey next month, I agree, my body is "out of whack" right now... more than normal too!

I’m hoping by then I’ll have a full time job with medical insurance and be settled in. So much is going on… so much stress coming at me from different directions… it’s the right thing to do. At least this is what I'm telling myself so I don't break down crying.

As I was leaving, there were two teenagers outside sitting on the bench. I could hear one tell the other, everything is going to be okay," while the other sobbed uncontrollably. I could hear the girl's faint voice say, "My mom's going to kill me," as I walked up the stairs.

As I sat inside my car and had a moment to absorbed what was just said to me, I could feel my eyes swell up with tears. It was tough to stay positive and to be strong, when all I wanted to do was cry. Cry for the way my body has betrayed me. Cry for the miscarriages I've had. Cry for the countless times I've seen a pregnancy test with one line. Cry for the girls who take their children for granted and don't realize what a blessing they are. Cry for not being able to give my boyfriend, whom I love so much, a child.

Then I remembered what someone recently said to me... "God may not come when you want him, but He's always on time." Sometimes I forget to have faith, take it one day at a time, leave it in his hands and just... breath.

I will continue to low carb and lose as much weight as I can during these three months. It’s going to be tough. I will miss feeling part of the TTC communities I'm in and talking about OPKs, temping, charting and everything else related to making a baby, but hopefully it will all work out in the end. I have faith in myself and in God, that everything will work out in the end... the way it was meant to.