#weezly talks fertility shit

[weezly14]

so i used to use this more as a blog where i talked about my life and my feelings and there's been both a lot and nothing happening in my life lately but i sure do have feelings! so i'm gonna write it down and send vibes into the universe because why not. what else do i have to do today?

i've been a little MIA in terms of working on my fics. i've barely written. first it was a rough fucking winter; then summer kicked my ass just as bad. i hate summer.

"but why has it been rough?"

well, because i'm not fucking pregnant yet.

we've been trying for a baby (i hate this phrase) for ten months? ish? and nothing has happened. in school they made it sound like you skip protection once and you'll get knocked up; my mom got accidentally pregnant twice. and here i am, charting dates and peeing on ovulation predictor sticks and tracking symptoms and the whole nine yards, timing sex and taking fucking prenatals and vitamins and not eating sushi or steak during the two week wait and not drinking at all, and all i've gotten to show for it is my fucking period, every month like clockwork.

the studies say, it can take up to a year. yes, most couples get pregnant within six months, but sometimes it takes longer. sure, fine, whatever.

so it's been hard enough trying to get pregnant and then failing (because it does feel like failing, every time), but then two things happened in quick succession:

my best friend got pregnant, sort of accidentally;

i got sent for bloodwork and the results caused my doctor to refer me straight to a fertility clinic.

when i saw the results i cried, but i thought i was just spiraling and being over dramatic. sure, my AMH is really low, but it's technically still in range, and that's not everything, right? my other tests were mostly fine, not totally out of the normal range. then i called my doctor's office, only to be told "we're referring you to a clinic, your ob/gyn doesn't think you'll get pregnant without treatment."

it's a hell of a thing to be told while standing in the pasta aisle of a grocery store.

in the midst of being referred to the clinic, i of course googled. read articles and papers. cried to my husband, my mom, my friends. of course the clinic was booking weeks out; in three weeks i'll go for my first appointment. my mom said, well maybe now you'll get pregnant. it happens, you know - people struggle and then as soon as they get booked to see a specialist, or start IVF, they get pregnant.

my period started over the weekend. it was not a good time.

the thing about trying for a baby is that every month is the same fucking rollercoaster, only you can't get off, and despite knowing exactly how it'll go, it's still somehow traumatic every time. every cycle there's the devastation when your period starts, followed by the hopeful/planning mode of "let me now track ovulation, let's chart out when we need to have sex." then there's the actual sex - trying to still have fun with it as opposed to the clinical "literally all we need is for you to finish," though sometimes it is just the quickie before work or after dinner because it's Fertile Week and we need to optimize our chances so it doesn't matter if it's not very romantic, we can have romantic sex later. after that it's the waiting game, the two weeks of overanalyzing every ache, every twinge, of looking up expected due dates and thinking about how to announce to family and friends, of hoping and thinking that maybe you are actually pregnant - all followed by the two, three days leading up to your period where every trip to the bathroom has the potential to devastate. where every pms symptom is enough to set off a fresh round of tears until your period actually starts. i've stopped taking pregnancy tests early. the stark white negatives (or rude NO - on the digital tests) was too much for me to handle in my already hormonal, pms state.

it hasn't been a year, which makes me feel like i shouldn't be so upset already. on the other hand, my egg reserve is apparently incredibly low - that is, i'm rapidly running out of eggs, and who knows if the ones i've got are even any good. in three weeks we'll see a fertility specialist, and based on my extensive research and trolling on reddit and listening to podcasts, i'm fairly confident they're going to tell us it's IVF or bust.

because i'm running out of eggs, for reasons that might not exist, or might just be "sometimes things just suck for certain people." some people get a diagnosis of "unexplained infertility," which basically means the doctors have run every test and there's no reason you can't get pregnant. we aren't in that camp, we're likely in the "diminished ovarian reserve" camp. for reasons that are unexplained.

meanwhile, my best friend is pregnant, and i can't talk to her without crying.

we moved into a bigger house a year ago in preparation for kids. we got our finances in order, we made sure our marriage was solid, we planned - and now? we've always wanted two, maybe three. at this point i think we'll be lucky to get one. maybe i'm being pessimistic. i'm trying to be confident but also realistic. IVF doesn't work for everyone. even my clinic, which has the best numbers in the state, has a 63% success rate. sounds great, and it is - but that's 37% of couples who don't go home with a baby. nationally, the outcomes are something like 50ish% of IVF cycles will result in a live birth (they measure by both pregnancy and live birth, because even if you've managed to get pregnant, there's no guarantee you'll stay pregnant.)

today is a good day, by the way. today i can talk to my mom, i can call up our insurance, i can write this and be factual and calm and not crying. today i feel like we have a good chance, like we will end up with a take home baby. today i'm cleaning my house and looking up meal plans to increase my fertility. exercise regimens to help me get in shape to increase my fertility. tomorrow might be a bad day. bad days are when i can barely get off the couch, where i cry at the thought or mention of my fertility. where a tiktok of a dad and baby sends me spiraling. when it all feels fucking useless and unfair.

today is a good day. i don't know what tomorrow's going to be yet.

i've been isolating all summer, which isn't hard to do when most of my friends aren't local. but i find i don't want to be around anyone, really. i don't want to talk to people. i don't want to be asked how i'm doing, i don't want to be asked what's new or what i've been up to.

"i've been cleaning my house and trying to get pregnant and failing. last week i made a new recipe, and today i cried."

it's not an exciting life i'm leading these days. and anyway, no one wants to hear about fertility struggles.

it's not that i'm too stressed. i don't need to go on vacation, or get drunk and have sex, or relax and then i'll get pregnant. sure, i could use a vacation, but that's not the magic ticket. the problem isn't lack of sex. i have depression; the stress is always there, but that's why i see my therapist and my psychiatrist. that's why i take my meds and do my self-soothing shit.

i'm not pregnant because i'm just not. and hopefully the specialist will have a plan and hopefully that plan has a more than 30% chance of succeeding, and hopefully we get to bring a baby home - but today? today i'm not pregnant, and it's not a guarantee that i ever will be.

so even though today is a good day, i'm still really fucking sad.

but, you know. i'm trying to have hope.

that, too, is a cycle.

[weezly14]

Well friends, it’s Yom Kippur and I’m not fasting.

In an hour I’m going to the fertility clinic for a thing called an HSG - feel free to look it up, I don’t feel like explaining here. Because there’s a slight risk of infection, my doctor prescribed me antibiotics. In a few minutes, I’ve been instructed to take painkillers. Both of these require food.

I probably wasn’t going to fast anyway, though; I have a complicated relationship with food and fasting, a history of disordered eating I hid and denied for a long time. I never had an eating disorder, but when I was deeply evangelical I would fast often. “Fast.” An excuse to not eat and punish myself under the guise of worship and prayer.

That was a lot of my life as a Christian. Punishment, self loathing, denial. In the name of god.

Today is Yom Kippur and I attended service virtually, I sat alone in a room wearing my tallit and kippah. One of my dogs came and sat at my feet, looking imploringly at me for pets. I tried to focus on the service and not the fertility appointment waiting for me. I’m not fasting, and there’s guilt. I’m not at service in person, there’s guilt.

But my rabbi reminded us to sit if we need to during service, to drink water or eat food if we need to. We’re not supposed to harm ourselves.

I’m good at harming myself, though, and calling it something else.

In one of the prayers we said today, we apologized for being defeatist, for “the comfortable ache of despair.”

I’m good at that, too. Defeatism and despair. Especially on this fertility journey. It’s easy - almost comfortable - to fall into the self loathing, into blaming my body and my past choices, to assume that I’m being punished. That I won’t have children. It hasn’t been a year yet; we’ve tried no interventions yet. It’s far too soon to give up hope.

The readings for Rosh Hashana - just last week - are about Sarah, who was barren, and Hannah, who was barren. These women who were advanced in years and childless. How god heard them and blessed them. They’re not the only ones, either; Rebekah and Rachel struggled, too. Infertility is a theme here, and god heard those prayers. That struck me, has stayed with me. It’s been on my mind for the past month, these stories, those prayers.

So, it’s Yom Kippur and I’ve failed 11 times to get pregnant, and every time I’ve blamed myself and fallen into despair, even if only temporarily. But today? I’m going to the clinic, and they’ll do a test. We’re collecting data, examining all we can, searching for a solution. We don’t have a clear picture yet, my doctor said. After today it will be clearer. And in a few weeks, we’ll meet again and discuss more.

I’m trying to be less mean to myself, to be less defeatist and despairing. I’m learning how to pray again. I’m trying.

And maybe that’s not nothing.