#yes I said 2 weeks I have endometriosis

[capwilliamsxn]

according to leah she lives her life so unapologetically herself but is uncomfortable being openly gay, loves being accessible but ignores fans, hates wasting time and doing nothing yet claims to be the biggest napper, wants to be the best centre back in the world but can’t even be bothered to practice her cornering position. why are we giving this hypocrite a pedestal? she has shown multiple times that she pretends to be the person people want her to be and contradicts herself in literally any interview she does

are u being serious? like???

1. there’s a difference between being unapologetic and completely public. you can be confident in yourself and who you are without screaming it on rooftops. she’s confident in who she is (with sexuality, clothing, appetite, music tastes etc) and shares that with her family and friends and the people she knows. because she’s a private individual and values her privacy.

also, considering the homophobia and disgusting insults open gay people (especially those in sport) face daily, is it any wonder why some people don’t scream their sexuality? leah already faces thousands of sexualising, demeaning and vile comments daily (across all social medias) without homophobic people knowing her sexuality and attacking her for it.

i’m guessing you’re a new ‘fan’ if you don’t already know this. i mean, back when leah and jordan would post together, they (particularly leah) would get so many disgusting comments.

also, she’s never actually said anything about her own sexuality, everything people say is just an assumption. she’s hinted at it, but who actually knows (if she’s gay, straight, bi or whatever). it’s no-ones business except her own, she doesn’t have to share that with fans to prove she’s comfortable with herself. i’m sure all her friends and family and teammates all know, which is all she needs.

2. when has she ignored fans? those games when she went inside without interacting because she wasn’t feeling great? (do you know that she literally has endometriosis, anxiety and gets sick like the average person does. she’s not always going to be 100% great and up for interaction. like i’m sure you aren’t.)

the other week she literally responded to a leeds player on twitter who was excited to play against her and wanted her shirt, instead asking if they could swap an that she couldn’t wait to meet her. that’s a fan interaction. she visited a bunch of kids and told them about being mascots for the arsenal game v chelsea. that’s a fan interaction.

she constantly makes herself visible so that young girls (and boys) can look up to her and don’t have to search to find a role model like her in sport, like she had to do herself as a kid.

3. this is the dumbest comment ever. like. yes she has a fear of time and it causes her anxiety, why would that mean she can’t have a nap??

she’s a human being AND a sporting professional who tires herself out physically (and mentally) almost every day. naps are literally what people take to rejuvenate themselves. having anxiety about time isn’t going to tell her body to not get tired and need sleep.

i’m sure on the days where she has more anxiety regarding time (like new year’s eve) she probably won’t nap or whatever.

4. i actually don’t even know if you’re being serious here. like. what?? (if you are,) being great on corners isn’t the only thing it takes to bring a great CB. but she literally is good at them anyway.

for the defensive corners: she’s great at blocking, at managing the traffic of players afterwards and at pushing the play back out and to the other side of the pitch. and for attacking corners: she’s literally scored numerous headers/goals from them and can make a great defensive run or secondary attack.

5. everyone has a version of themselves they want to be, and the best people work at themselves every day to achieve that. that is something leah clearly does, and for herself not anyone else. she doesn’t have to prove anything to you, or people like you who make ignorant and dumb comments without informing themselves first.

she has said before she doesn’t put herself on a pedestal and that she doesn’t view herself as she does her own heroes. if you’re putting her on that, it’s down to you and you personally. she’s a normal person who is trying deal with and be successful in the position she’s in (both her job and role as a public figure). she’s not acting or pretending to be anyone, she’s simply being herself.

(my ask box is called ‘think first’. you should read that before submitting something).

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

Personal/medical/weight loss/disordered eating-related stuff under the cut.

I started seeing a new GP because my old one moved back to Ireland, and even though it takes 2 weeks to get an appointment with her, she is probably the best GP I have ever seen.

I've been doing the full run of tests with her again, which were due anyway because the last time I got them done was a year ago, and went to my appointment today fully expecting the usual 'your iron is too low, here go get an infusion/your blood sugars are nearly too high, watch your diet' talk, but instead got 'no, iron levels are fine, you feel like shit because your sugars are way too high and you have type 2 diabetes'.

For me, the diabetes diagnosis is not unexpected, and I think I freaked her out a little with how calm I was about it. With PCOS, insulin resistance and a huge family history of type 1 and 2 diabetes, I knew it was most likely going to happen eventually. But the ironic thing is that after GPs telling me for years that losing weight would be the solution to my problems, I found an anti-diet nutritionist who has helped me get past my disordered eating and lost a significant amount of weight over the last two years, and now I've been diagnosed with diabetes.

It just goes to show that losing weight isn't always the solution.

On the plus side, this GP has given me a referral for a gynaecologist to finally (finally) start the process to see if I have endometriosis. I've had debilitating periods for 16 years, and I've had GP after GP put me off, tell me to lost weight, try metformin, try other weight loss drugs, who looked into weight loss surgery all before they would give me a referral for endometriosis.

I almost cried when she said 'yes, I definitely want you to see a gynaecologist.' I've been struggling with this for so long, the relief that someone finally believes me and isn't just blaming everything on my weight is overwhelming.

[orphancookie69]

My Infertility Journey: Part 6

There are so many things I thought I would not do again and yet here I am. Hope is a dangerous thing. Eggs are here, now the question of...Should I carry or not?

To Catch Up:

Part 5

Part 4 

Part 3 

Part 2 

Part 1 

October 2023:

So. Egg retrieval came, eggs went to testing, body came back. The body when it comes back comes back sooner and with a vengeance. The body feels like it did not complete the first one because the eggs were taken out and it starts again. That cycle tends to be one of the heavier ones. Doctor put me on Birth Control, Enskyce, to calm the factory down while we wait for the results of the embryo grading. I also transferred my embryo from Egg Retrieval #1 to join its new sibling embryo at the new office. Embryo transfer was $250, and a little nerve racking.

My partner goes to a new chiropractor, his wife specializes in fertility. My partner forced me to speak to her, Dr Alicia McDonough of Good Health & Wellness Chiropractic. Partners out there, don't force your partner to do something-let them do it when it makes sense to them and trust them. Anyways, here are the results of the consultation:

What is red light therapy? From what she said, it was using lights to increase blood flow to help heal the body naturally. Need to look more into this. 

Do I consume 120-130 grams of protein per day? I ran the numbers, my normal routine put me at about 100. By doubling up the amount of protein powder in my AM/Lunch smoothie, I hit 120, and any other snacks would be protein bonuses. 

Adding resistance training? I do 30 minutes a day, I need to look at what that is resistance training and possibly up 30 to 45 minutes by adding 15 minutes of resistance training. 

Trading CoQ10 for Ubiquinol? I am on CoQ10 as a prenatal but also help with migraine management. I was told Ubiquinol is the more effective version of that, apparently vitamins are the tip of the iceberg and supplements are better than vitamins. I was told Ubiquinol was sold at Coscto, but I did not see it. This makes for better egg quality, which assumes a third round of making eggs in the future. 

DHEA testing, and MTHFR testing? Yes. How did these tests get missed? 

Future possibility: track my own cycle at home with ovation sticks (determine my cycle peak), track my temperature in the morning (figure out if I run warm or cold), get the endometriosis confirmed and cleaned up surgically (how and who does that?), Recover, Use red light therapy, and try to have kids on my own on a year off if IVF fails? To confirm endo: Laparoscopy and laparotomy. Recovery is usually 6 weeks (almost 2 months). 

Future Possibility #2: If Egg Retrieval #2 does not work, maybe I should focus on egg quality vs quantity. Question then becomes, do I work with Dr. Mcdonough on that? Does she tell me what to tell my IVF doctor? Is that IVF? 

Present Question: If my eggs are indicative of what I was doing 4 months ago, was I in an ok place 4 months ago for ER #2? I started low fodmap and exercise in July, ER #2 was in September, so May? Maybe. 

Past Question: Based on the 4 month assumption being right, what about ER #1? In 2020? Are low quality eggs why no embryo from ER#1 has made it? I transferred the last embryo from ER #1, is it worth implanting then?

The consultation was $50. She mentioned mindset being important, and not thinking you are the issue. This is where I am going to disagree with her, while I would not have chosen to be this burden on my partner financially and every other way-there is a small part of this I can own. Once you own it, you can take control of it. I could of doubted my parent and checked it out myself. She mentioned weight not being an issue, while that was nice to hear-its not entirely true. We agreed a strong body can be a healthy body and the overall weight number isn't the end all be all. It was interesting, but not much help on the current path. More a future path, but I am too close to the current path to see beyond the woods.

Back to the current path, the enskyce started to give me migraines and nausea. I switched, with approval, and waited for the PGT results. Once those are in, we do an uterine evaluation and endoscratch prior to my transfer cycle. We received the results: the one embryo that made it was abnormal/aneuploid. We had a follow up appointment with our doctor to discuss next steps.

We spoke with Dr J Lin. He was shocked at our results. I was told to stop taking Birth Control, and call on the first day of my next cycle. Based on Egg Retrieval #2 results, and looking at an ultrasound today-it was advised to check back in after a month of no hormones to start Egg Retrieval #3. Egg Retrieval #3 would be longer (despite the fact that ER#2 was already longer than normal) and more days of Menopur. Financial department would call me with an estimate for ER#3 and I was advised to take the prenatal vitamins and supplements-as he confirmed your eggs are a reflection of the last 3 months. I stopped Birth Control. I also started to take my temperature daily and using Premom app/thermometer to determine some of my own data. I also started to do at home: red light therapy, cervical spine traction device, and a tens machine.

November 2023:

Next cycle was estimated for 4 weeks from the appointment-around the 4th week of November. Between the holidays and everything else-we decided to take the rest of the year off. It was nice to be able to enjoy the holidays.

December 2023:

I started the learning curve of gathering and understanding the data from my cycles using daily Basal Body Temperature checks and LH checks. In October, I also initiated the transfer of Eggs from ER#1 to join the eggs from ER#2 and found out that never got completed. So we decided in January to revisit that when everyone was back to work.

January 2024:

New year, same fight. I gathered 3 months of data using Premom, it is pretty interesting. We also picked up where we left off in the Egg Transfer. I forgot how many abnormal embryos I had, and wondered why they were even being stored if no one really had a good argument for implanting them? My partner wanted to keep them, based on a suggestion from a family friend, but honestly it did not make sense to me. But, as they are my eggs-we had to choose to dissolve them and sign the paperwork to do so.

In my head there were a couple of things at play. First of all, this would be year 5 or year 6 of trying to have a kid, and I was really worried about doing this for 10 years and having nothing to show for it and having that change me (for the worse). That being said, I have yet to give up so the options were: try an implant with the new office, implant an embryo into a stranger, or try for more eggs. While I know, if I choose to continue this journey I can't avoid another ER, getting 0 from ER#2 was (and still does) suck. Once we finally had the eggs of play in place, we met with the doctor to discuss next steps.

February 2024:

So it was arranged for Cryoport transported my embryos from Ovation Fertility in Newport Beach to Reproductive Fertility Care in Irvine, CA. Transport went well, thank goodness. Next order of business was to dissolve the abnormals at Ovation Fertility. I was quite torn about dissolving them. But its hard to make a case to keep them. I closed out the account, and I am glad I did. The way that company acted towards me, with my objects, was not ok.

March 2024:

I was put on Birth Control to calm my system down and on the day we would have implanted on that cycle, we decided to do a Mock Embryo Transfer, SIS, and Ultrasound. That went well. Upon the next cycle start, we set an implant date for the last normal embryo in our storage.

April 2024:

Next cycle came and we did a prenatal blood draw and ultrasound. The ultrasound looked good. Started taking a mix of pills, patches, injections, and suppositories. At first there were no injections, which was nice time to prepare the body for them. Closer to implant the injections started in the back for progesterone and in the front for blood thinners. We also did 1 round of Intralipids before the implant. I was going to implant both my mosaic and normal but ended up being talked out of it. On implant day we arrived 30 minutes early, I started filling up my bladder 1 hour before the actual appointment time. Implant went perfectly. Came home and rested and eased into my new normal. Went in for the blood test almost 2 weeks later and found out the implant did not take, my hCG levels were less than 1-and those values should double every day (and be like 5-10 value). The only positive in this sad time is that a failed implant is a failed implant, because it did not take-it does not count as a miscarriage.

Me and my partner decided to remove me from the equation as far as carrying goes. I am going to recover, he's going to work and save money. I am 32 years old this year, by the time we get to 35-40...we are in trouble if we don't have results - as far as my body goes. So if I can get one more Egg Retrieval done after rest by 35, and let someone else carry it-we can still make this happen. It is pretty amazing how many years can go by trying to do this thing though, this is year 5/6 for us so far.

Ya know it's a funny thing, the longer I do this-the less self conscious I feel about it? Like before I would be all worried for anyone to know I was too busy because of an injection, and while I boldly share this via text-I still kind of keep it private ish? It is funny how things change in such a short amount of time, just a couple of years ago I was terrified to even jump in.

[treadmilltreats]

Happy birthday to my daughter

My most incredible blessing turns 27, and this is my message to you.

I have always felt blessed even as I was going through my horrible childhood, I felt God's hand in my life.

When I was 21, the doctors found out that I had endometriosis, and they told me they wanted to do a hysterectomy on me. They said it didn't matter because I wouldn't be able to have children anyways, but I had this crazy faith even back then.

I knew I was going to have children. There was nothing more important in my life than to have a child, and I knew that God was going to make this possible. Fast forward years later, I got married, and we tried to have a baby for 5 years. I went to specialist after specialist, and they all said the same thing: that I had too much scar tissue and it would be a miracle if I did become pregnant.

I finally got pregnant and had a miscarriage. We were crushed, but I kept praying, and then that miracle happened, I got pregnant again. You wanted to come out right from the beginning. You were crowing at 7 months, and I was put on bed rest. No moving except to go to the bathroom, I have to tell you that this almost killed me, as I am always on the go!

But I wanted this baby, you, so I did what I was told, including waking up every 2 hours to take my medicine. After 15 trips to the hospital and too many sleepless nights of worry. You came into this world 2 weeks early. My incredible blessing was born on this day December 17. Twenty-seven years ago at 10:48 a.m., weighing 5 lbs and 5 oz.

I can't tell you how happy I was to hold this miracle in my arms. God blessed me with a healthy baby girl. We named you Victoria Lauren after your dad's grandma Virginia and my dad Louis, and you were perfect and still are in my eyes.

I look back and can't believe it's been 27 years already.

I can remember as if it was yesterday, your first day of kindergarten as I cried as I walked you to your class. I remember being your room mom, taking you to dance classes, and cheering you on. I remember baking cookies with you while we did your homework.

So many memories of the park, the parties, and the beach. Memories of teaching you how to ride a motorcycle, play poker, and all the laughs making lasagna with all of your friends in the house or singing off-key in the car.

I remember as you got older how you became the voice I didn't have against your dad. How you would stand up and tell him that he was treating me so badly. I can never forget how many beatings you got for telling the truth. How you would eat your dinner in seconds because you knew he would start with me, and when you would stand up to him, how you would get punished and sent to your room without eating, so you learned to eat fast.

These times, I would fight with him not to punish you or beat you, and then I would get a verbal lashing for days. These were not happy times for us, and I am sorry I was not stronger for you, but it made our bond even tighter. I prayed through your teenage years as you were wild and hanging with a crowd I didn't like. You were tough on the outside yet have this huge heart of gold.

You pushed me away, yet I held on tight. I told you all the good you had inside of yourself, all the things you could and would be, and all the things you didn't hear from your dad. I knew you were a chosen child God had placed here for a reason, and I was always going to be in your corner.

You were the one who told me to leave and be happy. It was because of your words that I had the courage to leave. Together with your sister, we made a new life, and yes, God answered my prayers. You finally straighten out and now you are an incredible young woman with a smart, streetwise head on her shoulders.You are not only beautiful on the outside but just as beautiful on the inside and I am so proud of you and this life you will be embarking on.

I want to give you some advice I wished I had learned earlier. I want you to know that worrying will not change anything and that you are still young and have your whole life in front of you. Do not worry about getting married and having kids. All that will come in time. The time right now is for you to explore the world, to find out who you are and what you want. You already know that you are a self-sufficient woman who is smart and street wise. Who can take care of herself and can do anything you set your mind to and that my dear, at your age is priceless.

Do not stress over things you have no control of. Let go and let God. He has you just as he had me all these years. Things will come in time, his time, not yours.

I cry as I write this because I know you will do big things with your life as you are a survivor. You know your worth, and I know that you will never settle for less as I have. You have seen your fair share of pain in your life and have lost way too many people in such a short life, and that has made you realize that life is too short. You need to make the most of every moment.

But all of this that you've gone through has made you the wonderful woman you are today. Always remember that God only gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers, and you, my love, are strong.

I love you so much, there are not enough words to express my love for you.

So I will tell you to soar…

To fly on the wings of the angels that keep you safe and that first put you in my arms. You are meant to soar my child.

I will always be here cheering you on, always ready to hold your hand or for a shoulder to cry on if you need it.

This is just the beginning of your incredible life....so live it large! Live it on your terms, and always remember to dance to the beat of your own drummer!

With all my love,

Now, always and forever

Mom

"Be the change you want to see”

@TreadmillTreats

[uncloseted]

Different anon here, but I have been actually told by doctors that you have to let you body take a break from birth control after a certain amount of time. It's the first time I heard (well, read, lol) that it's not the case at all. I got a subdermal implant last year, and I know I need to take it off within the next two years, but I was wondering if I can just get another right away since I'm loving it so far. Menstrual pains and depression are a total pain in the ass anyway, lol.

Yes! This is still a frustratingly common misconception even amongst health professionals (usually ones that aren't endocrinologists or gynecologists). There's no medical reason to "take breaks" from birth control pills (source 1, source 2, source 3, source 4) or even to take the placebo pills in the pack (source). The placebo pills are there, and this is true, to try and win over the Catholic Church. And for people with health issues such as endometriosis, PCOS, or ovarian cysts, it's long been protocol to put them on non-cycling birth control (i.e., without the placebo pills) indefinitely and without breaks.

Taking breaks can actually increase the likelihood that you'll get pregnant while on birth control, since your body has to re-adjust to the birth control each time. One study showed that a quarter (1 in 4) of young people who took a break from birth control of 6 months had unplanned pregnancies. Plus, if you had side effects when you initially began taking birth control that wore off after a few weeks, you'll experience those same side effects again after taking a break, which can be unpleasant. And the risk of serious adverse side effects is highest in the first few months of starting the pill, so taking breaks may actually increase the chances that you'll experience a serious side effect.

That said, birth control pills aren't suitable for everyone. If you're a smoker who is over the age of 35, if you're someone who has a high risk of cardiovascular disease, or if you're someone who has had cancer, the birth control pill may not be the option for you, as those conditions can raise the risk that you'll experience a negative side effect, although the risk is still fairly low. In the US, the FDA just approved an over-the-counter birth control pill, which gives you an idea of how safe it is compared to other medications.

As far as the implant goes, you can have a new one inserted when you go in to get the old one removed.

Also, just from a personal standpoint, I want to add that taking non-cycling birth control is one of the best things I've ever done for myself. Like 1 in every 10 women, I have endometriosis, and I used to be totally non-functional for 2 weeks every month. Non-cycling birth control has prevented it from spreading and allowed me to live a pain-free life. If you have painful menstrual cramps that go into the stomach or lower back, experience pain during or after sex, or pain with urination or bowel movements during a menstrual period, please consider going to get checked! You don't have to suffer for 50% of your adult life.

[coridallasmultipass]

Personal update (1/2) and memories from going to the ER this day: (TW gynecological exam, endometriosis, gender dysphoria, medical setting)

So I had some mad abdominal pains on this day that were really sharp and not getting any better, notably on the appendix side, and I was worried that might have been what was happening. I had had a period like over a week before this day, so I was certain it couldn't have been leftover cramps. I went to the clinic, but because it was a Friday evening, they were like, "Just go to the ER, they can do all the scanning for you." So I walked back to the dorm, in pain, made up a bag and told my roommates I didn't know when I'd get home. And walked to the ER. It was a terrible time to be in an ER in NYC. Friday night, lots of people in there and screaming and causing a ruckus. I'm alone and in pain and just scrolling my phone and waiting most of the time, not knowing if I was gonna get surgery or not until I got scanned and the doctor checked it out. I got morphine, which didn't really do enough to help and just made me get that overstimulated painkiller-on-an-empty-stomach nauseous feeling. They gave me extra strength ibuprofen after that, which helped a bit more when it was combine with the painkiller. After many HOURS, the scan said my appendix was fine, and the doctor said that a pelvic exam should be done to eliminate any other probable causes. Now, this was PEAK (okay, maybe not peak, but on the ascent to the peak) GENDER DYSPHORIA TIME for me. I manned up and said yes to the pelvic exam, but I was so upset about it inside. The doctor was male (which was always preferred for me), so a female nurse had to come in with us. This nurse had been scrolling Facebook for the hours I was there, pointedly not checking up on patients, so I was already kind of annoyed at her. (I could see her screen through the curtain around my bed, but she was still way across the room.) Anyway, the doctor was very polite, but I'd still never had a pelvic exam. I'd never had sex, I'd only been fingered. The exam was excruciatingly painful. (Pelvic exams are always stupidly painful for me, despite what other people say. It's like sticking a knife up there.) I was already in pain, so what's a little more pain on top? What hurt more, though, was the nurse making grossed out faces as she handed the doctor the tools. She was doing like a comedically 'grossed out' look and going, "ugh" under her breath. Like I wasn't even in the fucking room. Asshole. It's my first pelvic exam, and this nurse was treating me like dogshit on her shoe while I'm all naked and vulnerable and in pain and sick. To top it off, the doctor says some stuff about 'women' the whole time, I didn't even process it, I was like crying before that giant tool got yanked out. Basically my options at that point boiled down to: get admitted to the hospital for pain management, or go home and take prescribed pain meds and see if it goes away on its own. I obviously wanted to go home. I was left in the room to cry and panic and clean myself up. It was the worst sinking feeling knowing that, medically, I'm 'a woman' and that that's all anyone is ever gonna see me as, because of the organs I have inside me. I felt even sicker. Deep emotional, dysphoric sickness. My greatest source of dysphoria has always been my uterus. It traumatized me monthy since I was 11. (And it's still torturing me today, even though it's been removed.) I ended up walking home some time around 1 or 2 AM, still in pain, just taking a snail's pace, trying not to think about anything that happened. It felt really lonely. (To be continued, ugh, why does Tumblr have a limit on text posts, it's just words ffs.)

I make my own get well cards.

[ladyfawkes]

That awful time you’re 95% sure you have COVID-19 AND pneumonia and you were right

The Bad News: I've had COVID-19 sometime during the past several weeks and didn't know it until late this afternoon.....

The Good News: My immune system has already successfully fought it off. (My exposure was over a month ago and I had a good concentration of COVID-19 antibodies in the blood sample they took and they specifically told me I'm no longer contagious and haven't been for quite some time.)

The Bad News: I do still, however, have a nasty case of pneumonia -- a secondary infection, for which I am being given antibiotics, steroids, and...more steroids.

The Good News: The meds I'm taking to fight that off are working.

NO WONDER I'VE BEEN SUCH A MOODY DISHRAG OF A PERSON LATELY. Sheesh!!!  I have been convinced for over a month that it was “just” my summertime SAD (seasonal-affective disorder) or it was “just” quarantine blues on top of SAD/depression.  WHY AM I BOTHERING TO MENTION THIS....2 main reasons. I think a few people are worried that when I pulled back from a certain group, it was because I had a problem with them and that’s not at all true.  I thought I was going crazy. Or something to do with mental health. Definitely not that I had freaking COVID-19 and pneumonia. I know I’ve been all over the place the past month or two and I probably will continue to be like that for at least the next month or two. Point being....if you got caught up in the waves of whatever I was experiencing, I sincerely and humbly apologize. I don’t even remember half of what I’ve said or done the past while. While on a good day I might jumble up some events, it’s only around 10%-15%, not the 40%-50% it’s become. I only know that I still want to be friends and fans. I’ll still be out here though, as I’m still very much recovering and kinda out to lunch in the “total wellness” department. Second reason..... I think it’s important that y’all know as many symptom patterns as possible when it comes to this cray-cray ‘Rona thing so here’s mine below the jump.  The following symptoms can be indistinguishable between COVID-19 infection itself AND/or secondary pneumonia/bronchitis infection. You can't know if you've got a secondary infection unless you get the COVID antibody test. Point being -- if in doubt, the answer is YES -- GET TESTED. Don't wait. My doctor told me the sooner they know, the better because you need to know and get treatment started, either way.

List of known symptoms; subject to re-editing at any time as info becomes available.

1.) Utter exhaustion that I couldn't attribute to anything else over the past 10-20 days. 2.) Sleeping for 8-9 hours in a stretch and still being unable to keep my eyes open just 2 hours after I awoke.....and needing another 4-5 hour nap after. 3.) Sore jaw....where my tiny lymph nodes are at. Those always get sore when I have an infection. 4.) Extra pain in my nasal passages/center of my face. It's in the exact areas as where I've been complaining about my most recent septum surgery, so I thought it was just that....now I'm pretty sure it wasn't. 5.) Saturday, I woke up with a rattle in my chest. I mostly got rid of it. Or so I thought. 6.) Woke up with a worse rattle Sunday and Monday. 7.) Random, **not constant sharp PAINFUL abdominal pains. Originally attributed to endometriosis or PCOS but it's the wrong time during my cycle and the pains got gradually sharper with time. 9.) Random **not constant general upset stomach/intestinal feeling that cannot be attributed to something else. 10.) Random **not constant loss of appetite that cannot be attributed to anything else. 11.) Couldn't get out of bed until almost 8PM Sunday. 12.) I've been around somebody in the past 2-4 weeks who has since tested positive for COVID. 13.) Everything tasting weirder than usual. 14.) Bizarre smell that something is dead around my nose/throat area. 15.) Vice-grip migraines that feel like I'm wearing a metal headband so tight that I can't think straight. And there's NOTHING on my head. 16.) Hair loss. Lots of it. Just recently learned this one. 17.) Memory loss. 18.) Confusion. 19.) Forgetfulness.  20.) Scratchy throat that will not go away. 21.) Dry annoying cough/tickle. Persistent chest rattle.  22.) Mild occasional low-grade fever. 

I have NOT had:

A.) No extreme fever spikes that I know of... B.) No extreme joint pains. Keep in mind these symptoms can occur (or not) at anytime during your COVID-19 illness AND anytime during its recovery. 

[sarahhughes]

This is my ttc (trying to conceive) story...

All my life I was adamant I wasn't having kids. I had no drive to become a mother. Kids weren't my thing, that is until I met my now husband. We had the discussion before marriage, he wanted children I didn't. He married me thinking we would never have children. About two years after we were married I decided I was ready. I was ready for our family of two to become three. So I got my coil out without him knowing (I did know he still wanted children as it was discussed now and then) I loved that coil, no period in two years, amazing! It took me three visits to the doctors before I decided 100% I was ready for this. We had talked about when I last had sex and those wee swimmers can live for up to 6 days! And she said to me, you could already be pregnant! But about two days later my period came. The first one in 2 years! Horrible. I was only able to keep it a secret for about a month before I told my husband I had it out and were officially trying for a baby. He cried. That's when I knew for sure I was ready for this. About two months past, still not pregnant. I decided to try ovulation sticks. For another three months I never got that bloody solid smiley face. So I emailed the company, just incase these three different packs were faulty.. If course they weren't and the company suggests maybe I'm not ovulating. Of course panic, took to the TTC groups on social media. It was then I tried testing twice a day. It then I finally got my first solid smiley face. Overjoyed we did the BD (baby dance) this time this was it, I was sure I was pregnant, 6 months after trying I knew this was going to be it. I got the pregnacy tests that you can test 6 days before your missed period, of course it came up with one solid line. I probably tested every day until my period came. Oh well, better luck next month. Same again, got my solid smiley face. Did the BD. Pregnancy test. This carried on for the next few months. Then I start hearing, 'you're thinking about it too much' 'you're stressing, it won't happen if you stress' 'it always happens when you least expect it' alright off you fuck now.

Then everyone around me is getting pregnant. And the thoughts of this isn't fair is circulating around my head. I have to pull back and think well I don't know their story... But they've already got a kid... Or I was trying first... I know it's not right to think that, but unfortunately I can't control these human emotions.

I start to think about how I'm going to tell people when it happens, how will I tell my husband? So I start saving cute ideas. And if I get pregnant this month then it'll be close to this holiday or that celebration... When will I be due... How to announce it to my family or social media... Then I get that fucking negative pregnancy test and start on CD 1 all over again. But this time I can't help but cry. I don't understand how someone for over 20 years who didn't want children is now breaking apart a pregnancy test to make sure there's only one line, and not a v v v faint second... I cry alone in my bathroom because I want to be strong for my husband, for I know it's breaking his heart every month too.

The we chat about baby names. This is fun. Judge other people's parenting and say if that was our child... Then this month is different. I feel a flutter in my uterus, sorta like last month, but this month I've a blocked nose. This is it this month. I know it. I feel it in my bones. Pregnancy test. Tears. This is my punishment for not wanting children.

My mum said to me years ago, maybe I never wanted children because I somehow knew I couldn't have them. Some innate knowing. That sticks with me.

Covid has been a blessing. I don't hear people asking as much, oh when will you have a baby? You know maybe you'll be next to have a baby... I know it's not anyone's business but I know they mean no harm. Why be horrible to them just because I'm struggling? So I laugh and say, me? Never. But inside I'm thinking, never me, not by choice. No Christmas this year, thank god.

So I take a huff with my ovulation tests. Nope. No. More. Tracking. I'm just going to have fun with my husband. No stress, no issues. Nope this didn't work again. Yes Felicity where is your no stress it'll just happen logic now? Out the fucking window.

Then my husband starts to feel the pressure and doesn't want to do the BD anymore. I did this. I made you feel like this. I made you feel like you aren't good enough. This breaks my heart. I'm trying to do this for you, I would steal the moon if you asked. Now I'm making you break inside too...

Negative this month too.

We stop trying. I don't want to do the BD this month. I'm emotionally broken. I'm tried, and you are too.

Finally the one year mark hits. I can finally ask the doctors for help.

Basically they tell me, I'm trying too hard, I'm stressing. I need to relax. Sure there's a pandemic just enough your time off. Ehh excuse me, I'm working. And a very highly stressful job at that. My husband works too. So they finally agree to bring me in for bloods. Day 10 and 12...ring back a week later for results.

Everyone says I'll be fine, the doctor is right I'm just 'stressing' (swear I'll scream next time someone says that)

The next week, I call back, the receptionist says I'm not ovulating. I ask what does this mean? (I know what it means, I meant whats next) she said I don't know, ring back tomorrow to speak to the doctor and she hangs up. Emm OK, you've told me I'm not ovulating and have left me hanging.

I'm not ovulating.

So that night I break down. After everyone is sleeping. I do that a lot. I'm the strong one, I'm the one who has shit together. I'm the one who doesn't make a fuss. I'm always fine.

I'm not fine. I'm really struggling. I'm not ovulating.

I speak to the doctor the next day, not my doctor because she's busy, so the next doctor will do, I'm sure he knows how to explain bloods... I've no idea. Is what I'm told. I don't understand why she did those days and not day 21? What's wrong with your periods? Nothing... I'm averaging out at 24/25 day cycle. Well I don't know. You're not ovulating is all it says here. We're referring you to gynaecology. But it could be years, I don't know. Fan-fucking-tastic. Is there anything you do know? Yes we're flying through covid vaccines. Good for you doc. Good for you.

So I message a private fertility clinic to hopefully speak to someone who does know. Got my date and just waiting to go to my appointment. £250 for a chat and a scan to check for endometriosis and pcos.

My GP have randomly rang me to book for more bloods. Well the receptionist. I ask what dates do they want? Oh I don't know she says. Fantastic. I'm trying so hard here not to be frustrated. We're going to try days 16-18. Excellent. Let's hope someone knows this time. I feel like I've missed a whole discussion with my doctor here. Last I knew I was being referred to an infertility clinic? I've no idea.

Well congratulations if you've made it this far. This is us up to date. Currently waiting to get bloods taken. This is more about getting my thoughts and feelings out.

We all have a story to tell and this is mine...

[maren-as-an-adult]

The 2020 Experience, Part 2

When I flew back to New York a few days later (yes, I braved the airports and a plane) I could not stop crying. What should have been a loving and heartfelt reunion between myself and Graham turned into an awkward situation for him, with me bent double in the front seat of his car sobbing inconsolably.

And suddenly I had to adjust back to life more or less on my own. I couldn’t have friends come over, my family who lived in NYC were too far for me to get to them without public transit, and Graham’s mother was immunocompromised so we couldn’t spend much time together. I was back to sitting at my computer, taking online surveys for the promise of money and sending out application after application. Jena and Julia, my other two roommates, were still not back, so it was just me and Polina.

Things started to get a little better though. I had applied for Medicaid so I had some health coverage again. I scheduled an appointment with my new doctor, I started talking to a therapist again in August, and I stopped budgeting for birth control and got it for free. The after school program was up and running again, this time remotely (only one of my schools was able to host their program though, so my work hours were still cut). I looked forward to every other weekend, where Graham would drive out and pick me up to spend a few nights at his place. Jena came back and announced she was moving out, and our new roommate Michelle moved in. Michelle and I had a lot in common, and I found it easy to talk to and connect with her.

I even got out to see my family. I braved the subway to see my family up in Astoria, and Polina told me about the ferries I could take that brought me to my family on the Upper East Side.

One day in late September, however, I woke up with abdominal pain. It was pretty mild at first, but it kept getting worse. As someone who has periods, I assumed it was just week-early cramps brought on by stress combined with a poor diet that didn’t include much fiber. I tried to assuage the feeling by eating an apple, but after a quick trip to the bathroom it made a reappearance coming back up the way it went down. I decided to do what most people do (and what doctors hate) and look up my symptoms online to try and self-diagnose. The two big contenders for what I was suffering from were IBS or an ulcer. I texted Graham and told him what was up, and he asked what I was going to do. My current plan was to try and wait it out, and if things still felt bad in the morning, I would go to the ER.

If it wasn’t for Graham’s suggestion that I go to an urgent care center (which I had completely forgot existed at this point in time) I may have died.

At 7:12pm I grabbed my bag and walked three blocks to the urgent care center closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, they were no longer taking walk-ins for the day, but told me that another urgent care center was open until 8 and would take walk-ins.

It was 17 blocks away.

I walked 17 blocks with severe abdominal pain to this urgent care center just to be seen and tell a health professional I wasn’t feeling well. I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do, but maybe they could give me a better idea of what was wrong with me. I called Graham and gave him the address of the urgent care center, asking that he come out to be with me. Whatever was happening to me, I did not want to go through it alone.

I made it to the urgent care center fifteen minutes before they closed. I was taken to an observation room where a brusque young Russian woman took down my vitals and information as we waited for the RN to come see me. When he finally did come in and I started telling him what was wrong, I barely finished explaining what happened after I ate and failed to keep down the apple that he interrupted me saying, “You need to go to the ER immediately, because what you described sounds like you have a GI bleed. You’ll need an endoscopy, where they take a camera on a long, thin tube and feed it down in through your stomach and into your intestines to see if you’re bleeding internally.”

It was getting late, I was alone, and I was TERRIFIED.

I was told where the nearest ERs were, was given a printed referral, and then dismissed for the evening. All I could do was wait for Graham and tell him what was going on... and then call my mother and tell her.

I love my mom. I’ll likely never not love my mom for the rest of my life. But sometimes she takes a bad situation and makes me feel even worse. When I told her I had called Graham to come get me, she pointedly asked why I didn’t call any of my family who lived closer than Graham. Well, of my family who live in the greater metropolitan area of New York City, we have:

- My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny, currently NOT in NYC and instead staying out in Milford, PA

- My Uncle Brian, Aunt Corinne, and cousin Nikki up in Astoria. My aunt cannot drive and gets panicked easily, my cousin only has her learner’s permit, and my uncle (though I love him) would not be the most comforting presence to me at the moment, being VERY pro-Trump Republican and a FIRM anti-masker

- My Uncle Mike, Aunt Gloria, and cousins Maura (and her husband Andrew), Brendan, and Kevin. Maura, at this point in time, was nine months pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and I was not going to be responsible for pulling my aunt or uncle away from the birth of their first grandchild

With this information presented to my mother, she did concede that calling Graham had not been a terrible idea. Continuing to fret, however, she said I should at least have called them to let them know what was happening. She took it upon herself to do that, and additionally call my father and tell him (dad was on the road at that point and so missed my initial call of “Hey, jsyk, I’m going to the ER, wish me luck!”). Graham pulled up, I ended my mom’s call telling her I’d keep her posted, and headed off to the unknown.

As we were driving to the closest ER, my dad called. Thankfully, he gave advice that calmed me down. He listened to my symptoms, told me it was likely an ulcer, and told me what would happen when I went in: I’d be admitted to the ER, they’d take my vitals, I’d explain my symptoms over and over and over to multiple people, they’d probably admit me overnight, knock me out and do an endoscopy, and in the morning I’d be sent home with a prescription to help with the ulcer. I felt better.

Graham and I made it to the ER at about 8:45pm. I was admitted immediately, my vitals were taken, I was given a cup to pee in, an IV was placed in my arm, my blood was taken, and I told my story to two different doctors and a few different nurses. I went in for an ultrasound to rule out pregnancy, endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. I waited, with Graham by my side.

The doctor came back at about 11:30pm and told me my urinalysis and ultrasound came back unremarkable, but my bloodwork showed a high white blood cell count, which meant my body was fighting off an infection somewhere. This is absolutely something I did and did not want to hear in the middle of a global pandemic. On the one hand, go immune system! Keep me safe, you beautiful, hard-working bitch! On the other hand, what was it my body was fighting off?

The doctor said if I wanted to leave at that point, I could, because nothing obvious was found. “But,” she said, “I would strongly recommend we do a CT scan just to be safe.”

It was late, both Graham and I were tired, and my abdominal pain wasn’t awful to the point where I was bent double anymore. I could stand and walk around with only a slight discomfort. The thought of getting out of the ER, a frankly dangerous place to be in these COVID times, was deliciously appealing.

“What the hell, lets do the CT scan.”

I was given almost two liters of fluid to drink to prep for the scan. It didn’t taste bad, actually, kind of like a flat lemon La Croix that had been left in its aluminum can too long. At 12:30am I went in for the scan. Two hours later, Graham and I were still waiting for the results. At around 2:30am Graham turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’m ready to go. I won’t leave you here alone, but I’m exhausted and ready to get out of here.” I responded, “Honestly, I am too.”

At that moment, a doctor walked around the corner into our area and said, in a too cheery voice, “Hi there! You have appendicitis.”

I swear in that moment I could feel the cosmic force of the universe tremble with suppressed laughter at this finely crafted moment of ironic timing. My only response to the doctor and Graham was, “Well... I guess I’m staying here for the night?” Remember when I thought it was IBS? Couldn’t we go back to that?

I’ve mentioned before the idea of surgery scares me. I’d hoped I’d only have to experience anesthesia from getting my wisdom teeth removed. I fully expected to break down in hysterics then, but I guess I was just too tired and overwhelmed to react in such a big way. I called my mom and told her what was happening, and the first suggestion she made was for me to come home and heal in Chicago.

...mom, I love you, but getting on a plane immediately after major surgery in the MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC FROM AN AIRBORNE VIRUS is frankly the DUMBEST IDEA EVER.

After realizing that would be a bad move, she suggested she come out to be with me while I heal. While an appealing process, it ultimately wouldn’t be of much use, because she’d have to quarantine for two weeks before seeing anyone at that point. Eventually, she offered to book a hotel room for me and Graham for a long, extended weekend to help me recover. It was extremely generous of her, and I’ll forever be grateful she did it.

I was hooked up to antibiotics to prep for surgery, and the attending surgeon explained the procedure to me. Everyone was so calm and sure of themselves that I felt okay, and the inevitable wave of panic was held off. At 4:30am, I was wheeled up to the operating room. Graham stayed by my side as long as he could and walked all the way to the doors of the OR hallway with me and the attending. I made sure he and my mom had each others’ phone numbers so he could give updates. I was wheeled through the doors, and met with my operating team.

The anesthesiologist and practicing surgeon assured me that they felt fine, well-rested, and at the top of their game, and I was able to relax some as I moved off of my gurney onto the operating table. Once I was on the table, clad only in a thin hospital gown and gripper socks, my body started to shake. Whether it was from the cold or the panic had finally set in I wasn’t sure, but I calmly told the doctors that I thought my fight or flight response was kicking in, and they might need to consider restraining my shaking limbs.

They did, and they also put a heated (and somewhat weighted) blanket over me which relaxed me so my limbs weren’t shaking so violently. An oxygen mask was placed on my face, sealing my nose and mouth into a thick plastic chamber. I tried to breathe deeply and evenly, forcing myself to think of pleasant thoughts and not spiral into a headspace of worst case scenarios. I think what helped most was actually an attending nurse reading out loud my patient chart for posterity and recording’s sake, and he said, “Patient is a twenty-seven year old female named Maureen Ford.”

The annoyance I felt at being misnamed (again as Maureen) cut through the second wave of panic buildup, and my only goal was to correct him. The oxygen mask muffled my voice, but I like to think if you were to listen to the audio recording of my surgery, you would hear, very faintly in the background, me indignantly stating, “It’s pronounced MAREN!”

My last thought before I went under was that I need to make sure that nurse was corrected.

When I woke up, I felt more comfortable than I had in a very long time. The only thing that kept me from being in a total state of comfortable bliss was the slowly incoming knowledge that my mouth was drier than the Sahara desert at noon in July. Despite this, and the residual effects of the anesthesia still in effect, I was pleased to find that not only could I clearly hear and understand the conversations happening around me, I could also coherently speak and communicate with people. I asked for water as soon as I could, and the nurse told me that they’d have to work me up to water. We’d start with a lemon swab in my mouth, followed by ice chips, and then I could get water. The attending surgeon came in to tell me the surgery went smoothly without complications, and I asked her if she could make sure whoever called me Maureen was corrected on my name pronunciation.

I really hope it wasn’t written off as a sleepy patient’s delirious request, because I was absolutely serious about it.

After eating some very powdery eggs and drinking an apple juice, I was discharged and told to get my medications, rest up, avoid lifting anything over 15 pounds, stay away from submerging my sutures in water, and to schedule a one week post-op follow up with my primary care provider and a two week post-op follow up with the attending surgeon.

Graham drove us back to Bay Ridge, and I gave him my keys to go grab some essentials from my apartment. I gave Michelle and Polina a heads up that he was coming up (and I had let them know what was happening before I went into surgery) and that I’d be gone recovering through the weekend and partway into the week. They both wished me a speedy recovery, Graham grabbed a few essentials for me, and we drove up the street to pick up my meds from Rite Aid.

For some reason, they had only filled two of the four prescriptions. One they didn’t fill because it was a controlled substance and the hospital hadn’t submitted the proper authorization for it, and the other prescription (one of two laxatives) I have no idea why it wasn’t filled. Eventually, I got both my pain medications and one of the laxatives, with the other laxative to be filled and picked up at a different Rite Aid, closer to Graham’s work.

Exhausted, sore, hungry, and (in my case) in desperate need of a shower, we made it back to Graham’s to spend one more day there before going off to the hotel my mom had booked us. Graham had been scheduled to work that day, but after calling into the office was told he should only come in if he thought it was absolutely necessary. He ended up catching a few hours of sleep before going in for the late shift at work. I managed to take a shower and fell asleep on his couch as his bed was too soft and sent my abdomen into absolute agony. I blinked in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waiting for Graham to come home with my last bit of medication. In that time, my dad called to check on me and ask how I felt, what I was prescribed, and what was expected of me. As we were talking Graham called, and I excused myself so I could answer the call. Nothing could have prepared me for what Graham was going to say to me.

“I was just hit by a truck.”

*click*

[womanhood-and]

Medical Discrimination (My Experience)

I'll most likely be making multiple posts about my experience in getting medical treatment, but to start with, I'll talk about something specifically related to my anatomy.

Endometriosis runs in my family, as does cancer. My mother had her uterus removed after my younger brother was born due to lifelong pain and discomfort from endometriosis. My grandmother had multiple miscarriages due to untreated endometriosis until late in her life. My aunt has been treated for ovarian and cervical cancer, and is in chemotherapy currently for breast cancer.

So two years ago, when my body was suddenly ripped with pain so severe I felt like I was being stabbed, my parents came and picked me up from school. I was brought to the car by a wheelchair, and then wheeled into the ER, where they gave me pain medication and nausea medication after my mother asked, and told me it would be a couple hours until a doctor could see me. We were all scared out of our minds. I had only had one period- my first- about three months ago. My mom was on the phone with her sister, my dad with his mother, and I sat there, hunched over and crying.

I had never felt that kind of pain before. Not when I had to get stitches in my foot. Not when I fell down a hill and scraped up most of my body and sustained a head injury. Not when I bruised my kidney. This hurt so much I could barely stand it, and they told me they couldn't give me pain medication until a doctor saw me.

We waited and waited and waited. They wouldn't let me use the bathroom in case the doctor ordered a urine test. I got to the ER at about 3pm that day. I was brought back around 7pm.

The doctor asked how I rated my pain on a scale of one to ten. I told him ten. My parents told him to believe me. He said I was probably overreacting.

They did an ultrasound and they did, in fact, test my pee. They didn't see anything. So I was discharged and told to come back if it happened again.

Which it did. Again and again. And each time they said the same thing, not telling me what's wrong and saying to put up with it. So we stopped going to the ER. We'd be in the store and I'd find myself on the ground, curled up in the middle of an aisle, struggling to breathe as I was overwhelmed with pain. I let myself have a minute and then had to get back up again and start walking. I'd been the adult in my house for a long time.

About a year later, it mostly faded, and was replaced with crippling back pain. I could barely move. I couldn't sit in my chairs at school. I had to go to the nurse's office every couple days. I laid on the back counter in one of my classes because I had a teacher who took pity on me. My mother brought me, struggling to stand upright, to Urgent Care. They asked me how much it hurt, I said six. They asked if I was nauseous, I said yes. They asked how long it had been going on and I said a week. I was denied any pain medication. (1)

Then I laid in the mostly empty waiting room for hours. We got there at two thirty. I was seen just after nine o' clock, the last patient in the waiting room. A nurse looked at me, told me to buy extra strength advil, and told me that I either pulled a muscle or was in kidney failure. It was too late to run tests. But I should come back if I started vomiting blood. My mother asked for the doctor, and the nurse said that he left and asked her to see me, the last one there.

It's been two years of on and off pain in my lower stomach and/or back. It comes at random times and can be debilitating. I've mentioned it to countless ER and Urgent Care doctors, have told my GP. They always ask me:

When was your last period? Are you sure it's not period cramps? Are you sure it's that bad? (2)

But my father, he walks into Urgent Care and tells them his knee hurts. They look at the record of a decade old surgery, give their sympathy, and prescribe him a dose of Norco that doesn't last.

My brother, he broke his arm and they asked him right away if he wanted tylenol for the pain. Grape flavored or bubblegum?

My sister, she had a deformation in the cartilage of her knees that caused her constant pain, made her extremely susceptible to dislocations and ligament damage, and was steadily getting worse due to her playing volleyball. My parents took her to the doctor for pain for the first time when she was six years old. The deformation wasn't identified or treated until she was seventeen. If they caught the deformation when she was six, or seven, or eight, she could have been saved a lot of pain, injury, and grief. But no one took her seriously (3) because they believed a young girl's pain must have been exaggerated.

Doctors do not believe women about the pain they're in and it causes real damage.

Sources that these are not isolated incidents:

(x)

(x)

(x)

[ladywithoutababy]

Retrieval Cycle Day 2: IVF Day 1

It’s official, I am undeniably now in the process of Doing IVF. 

I have decided to approach this process with positivity and optimism, mostly because my sister pointed out how uncharacteristically negative I was being and I realized she was right. I can decide to be fine with all kinds of other things, why not this thing!

So I took a deep breath this morning, left my house before the sun was up, and went in to the doctor’s office for monitoring and to get definitive instructions about which medications I should take, how much, and how often. It wasn’t that bad, even though I had to wait there for an hour – the secret, as with most things in life, is to bring a good book.

I was surprised that after I got my blood drawn I had to get an ultrasound. I thought maybe there was a mistake and said to the nurse “I have to get a scan even though I’m on my period?” and she said yes. Maybe she didn’t understand the connection. (”The indignity!” I texted my husband.)

I was also surprised that I had to pay up front for the genetic testing we know we’ll want to do on any good looking embryos, especially when I learned that it costs $1000 more than it did last year.

The highlight of the visit was the extremely nice, no-bullshit doctor who did my ultrasound. She walked into the room, introduced herself, and then told me that they have a 70% success rate with IVF (??? I thought it was 40-50%?). She said that they’ve been conducting a study on the 30% of women who are not able to get pregnant in their first attempt (either because the embryo doesn’t implant at all, or because they have a miscarriage), and that it appears that every single one of them suffers from a thing I’ve never heard of called chronic endometritis (not endometriosis, the thing you have definitely heard of), which is an inflamed uterus caused by a specific kind of bacteria. She said for these women, they treat the bacteria with an antibiotic and try again, and then they’re able to get pregnant. Consistently. Reliably. IS THIS THE ANSWER?????

She asked if I wanted to participate in the study, and seemed prepared to try to convince me why I should do it, and I interrupted her and said I’d love to help. I tried to make a joke - “At this point I’m pretty sick of pregnancy not working, I’m happy to help with that however I can” - and, right on schedule, started crying. I wish I wasn’t the kind of person who cries when I’m frustrated or angry or scared, but I am. Instead of doing the weird pity thing doctors usually do when I start crying, she:

grinned at me

called me “honey”

yelled “I cry every day!”

said “don’t worry, you’re going to be a mommy”

gestured for me to put my feet in the stirrups and got back to business

...all of which were very effective at making me feel better. Anyway, what a crazy story, right? Maybe this’ll work? Right? Right??? Maybe?

As usual, everyone said that everything looked perfect, I’m good to start the hormones, blah blah. Here is a picture of the 900 lbs of hormones in our fridge:

For the next few days, I have to take “Gonal-f” (cool name) and Menopur (the lovely, aforementioned nun urine). When I got home from work, my husband and I watched some helpful videos about how to prepare and inject these things, and we got to work. I got a bad case of the giggles when he was gearing up to do the first one, but those got cured quick when it started stinging. I thought the worst was over, but the Menopur a) hurts going in, b) stings for a long time after, and c) causes some kind of weird puffy reaction. (I did google that to make sure I’m not having an allergic reaction, but trust me you do not want to see the terrifying allergic reactions one can have to Menopur. Or at least I don’t.)

All in all, I guess it wasn’t terrible. It took us 20 minutes to do these two shots, but I’m sure it’ll get faster as we get used to it. Also, I don’t have to go back in for monitoring until Saturday, so I feel like I got off easy. And as one of the nurses I saw today told me, “2 weeks will fly by before you know it.” I do sort of feel like an old pro now that I’ve already gone through 3 rounds of IUI.

Here is a picture of what was left over after we did my shots:

Not pictured: the needles themselves, which we disposed of in our sharps container. My apartment now has a sharps container.

Did this blog post make any sense? I’ve been up since 5 am. Goodnight.

[regansheasparks]

Our Pregnancy Journey:

Pregnancy Journey: 

We started trying to get pregnant in August of 2018, every month there was more and more negative pregnancy tests. I kept taking them even though I knew I wasn’t pregnant just hoping for a positive to show up. By January 2019, I was having very intense periods. They came with crippling pain that just seemed to not be letting up at all. I had always had really rough periods but they were just getting worse I felt. I started asking my doctor what we could do because I felt that there might be a bigger issue than just a normal period. We talked about a few different conditions and medical conditions that ran in my family on my moms side to see if that could be an issue. We ended up doing an Laparoscopy on February 13th, 2019 to see if I had endometriosis. After surgery, I was told I did indeed have endometriosis and that he cleaned it all out while I was in surgery. That was good and bad news. I knew that it can and will always come back and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to have kids. He reassured me that I still have just as much of a chance as anyone else. I was feeling very good about it all. The healing process was about a week or so, and then I started feeling much better. 

On the 26th of March I woke up in the wee hours of the morning and had this very weird feeling that I needed to take a pregnancy test, but I was like no - just go to the bathroom and go back to bed so I wouldn’t get my hopes up. So then I got up and was getting ready for work and decided to go ahead and take it. I hadn’t even had a period since my surgery which was so odd. The test was faint but it was positive, I immediately started freaking out and was like yeah there’s no way this isn’t real - I just had surgery and my levels must be messed up right? So, I took another two tests with me to work and decided that I would give it some time and then I would take another one. Well the next one was positive too. I still was like freaking out but in denial that the tests were faulty. Then I took a 3rd test, still thinking it was fake positive. (Usually if you get 2 they’re real……) So on my lunch break I drove to the store and got the digital pregnancy tests by Clearblue that come in a pack of 2! I was sure these would be negative. I took one and it was FAULTY - it said error and was defective so there was no result. Of course by this point I have to wait a little while because I don’t have to go to the bathroom yet. It’s been about a few hours or so I want to say and I took that test and gave myself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror while it was loading (YES - I know i’m weird). About 2 minutes later I go to grab the test and it says *PREGNANT*. If you know me at all, you know that I am shaking and crying and extremely overjoyed but also freaking out all at the same time. I knew I had to tell Derek that night because I can’t keep a secret or a surprise from him - its sooooooooo hard. I texted my friend who has a cricut and was like look, I get off in a few hours can you please make me a baby onesie that says “FACT YOU’RE GOING TO BE A DAD” with the Dwight Schrute glasses on it. I then told Derek I had to run an errand for a surprise for him when I get off work. I ran over to her house and grabbed that onesie and headed home. I haven’t gotten to post this video anywhere so I will post it below of his sweet face when he found out he was going to be a daddy. 

We had an appointment to see how far along we were on Friday - April 12th, 2019. We then found out that we were about 6 weeks along! Later on that night I started having some really intense cramping and was starting to get scared that something was happening. It let up and I went to bed and just tried to relax. Saturday morning April 13th, I was having some more pain and slight bleeding. I called the doctor and they said if the bleeding is not bright red and heavy to not worry. The pain became intense - I had another appointment coming up that following tuesday and I was trying to make it to then but the pain became too intense and the bleeding got heavier. I was in so much pain - I had Derek take me to the Emergency Room. After a few hours of being in the ER and having ultrasound and blood work done, we were told that we lost the baby. As you can imagine this was one of the hardest things we have ever dealt with. Time heals all wounds and this was not something that we would just heal from or forget. This would take time, and a lot of it. Even though we lost this baby at 6 short weeks the pain of losing him/her was unbearable. Any and all loss is hard loss.

On May 18th, 2019 the day we got back home from seeing System of a Down in Ohio, Derek told me that I needed to take a pregnancy test. I was like oh hush, there’s literally no way I’m pregnant right now. So I took a test just because he said I should and well…. it was positive. Not even faint, this was VERY POSITIVE. I was SHOCKED. Our first doctors appointment was on June 7th and we found out we were 8 weeks pregnant already. I had no idea how this was even possible and my doctor couldn’t believe it either. They said its possible that I was pregnant with twins and lost one, but the timeline still does not add up. Nothing makes sense as to how we’re pregnant and how far along we were at the time we found out. It’s literally a miracle, this baby is a miracle. As I’m writing this it is October 29th, 2019 and tomorrow I am going to be 29 weeks pregnant with this rainbow miracle child. 

He is due on January 15th, 2020 and his name is Kai Anthony Sparks. 

I’m writing about our pregnancy journey to show those struggling with pregnancy loss not to give up. We stopped trying and it happened again for us. I hope that our story helps one of you who might be struggling with pregnancy loss. Please reach out to me if you need to talk or ask me any questions that might help you get through your journey. 

[witchywhatnow]

Ramblings of a very new Christian Witch

Hey, hi, hello, these are some thoughts I’ve been having the last few weeks. 1. I still really really love the church that I am a member of. I want to continue to worship God there for as long as I live where I do. I want to build up the church to be more inclusive and welcoming.

1a. A few months ago our bishop gave a guest sermon and he lamented to us that our national church (ELCA) is one of the most consistently caucasian denominations of Christianity on this continent. Yes, the Lutheran church was founded in Germany by a German friar and then primarily brought to North America by German/Scandinavian immigrants (read: colonizers), but we’re here now in what should be a melting pot of all backgrounds. Something we’re doing is making our churches inhospitable places of worship for POC. I remember once last summer there was a black gentleman on the football team (we’re a semi-university-based church) who visited us, and after church all the old white folk just went a little massively overboard on the friendly welcoming and we never saw him again. There is, of course, the possibility that someone said something malicious to him and made him feel unwelcome, but I pray that that is not the case. I don’t know how to fix this. I want to make sure that my place of worship is a sanctuary for EVERYONE who wants or needs it. And then I want to work to spread that spirit of sanctuary to as many other Christian places of worship as possible, because that’s what we should be for the world.

2. I think I’ve found a way of reconciling my desire to serve the Christian Triune God and my desire to acknowledge the pagan gods that I feel called to. (Disclaimer: I hope that this is not offensive to any of my pagan friends. I mean no disrespect to the deities that you love so much; I just want to express how I see and love them, too). For me, it seems that each pagan god (and pantheon of gods) has simply been another culture’s interpretation of the One Almighty God. Like different faces of God. So, when I want to make a petition regarding hearth and home, I will say something along the lines of: “Heavenly Father, I call upon the aspects of you that my ancestors knew by the name of Brigid, goddess of hearth and home.” and then I begin speaking to God via the name Brigid. Also, I mentioned this in a past post, but the Holy Spirit is very easy for me to interpret as the mother figure of the Trinity. Tonight, when I was watching the full moon rise and praying in her light, it felt to me as though I was in the presence of the Holy Spirit the Mother. 

3. My state (Oklahoma) just passed a state question to legalize medical marijuana. Where can I find witchcraft that incorporates marijuana? I am fully expecting that at least one of my multiple doctors will prescribe it to me (hello PTSD, endometriosis, chronic pain), and I think it would be nice to be able to incorporate my mundane medicine into my magickal practice.

4. Would anyone want to build an online chatroom for Christian Witches? I would say Discord but I am a total n00b and I don’t know how to use that very well so I would also be down to create a GroupMe.

[treadmilltreats]

My most incredible blessing turns 26.

My message to you..

I have always felt blessed even going through my horrible childhood but even then I felt God's hand in my life.

When I was 21, the doctors found out that I had endometriosis and they told me they wanted to do a hysterectomy on me. They said it didn't matter because I wouldn't be able to have children anyway but I had this crazy faith even back then.

I knew I was going to have children, there was nothing more important in my life than to have a child and I knew that God was going to make this possible. Fast forward years later, I got married and we tried to have a baby for 5 years. I went to specialist after specialist and they all said the same thing: that I had too much scar tissue and it would be a miracle if I did become pregnant.

I finally got pregnant and had a miscarriage. We were crushed but I kept praying and then that miracle happened. I got pregnant again. You wanted to come out right from the beginning, you were crowing at 7 months, and I was put on bed rest. No moving except to go to the bathroom, I have to tell you that this almost killed me, as I am always on the go!

But I wanted this baby, you, so I did what I was told including waking up every 2 hours to take my medicine. After 15 trips to the hospital and too many sleepless nights of worry, 2 weeks early my incredible blessing was born on this day December 17. Twenty-six years ago at 10:48 am weighing 5 lbs and 5 oz.

I can't tell you how happy I was to hold this miracle in my arms. God blessed me with a healthy baby girl. We named you Victoria Lauren after your dad's grandma Virginia and my dad Louis, you were perfect and still are in my eyes.

I look back and can't believe it's been 26 years already.

I can remember as if it was yesterday, your first day of kindergarten as I cried as I walked you to your class. I remember being your room mom, taking you to dance classes, and cheering you on. I remember baking cookies with you while we did your homework.

So many memories of the park, the parties, and the beach. Memories of teaching you how to ride a motorcycle, play poker and all the laughs making lasagna with all of your friends in the house or singing off-key in the car.

I remember as you got older how you became the voice I didn't have against your dad. How you would stand up and tell him that he was treating me so badly. I can never forget how many beatings you got for telling the truth, how you would eat dinner in seconds because you knew he would start with me, and when you would stand up to him, how you would get punished and sent to your room without eating, so you learned to eat fast.

These times I would fight with him not to punish you or beat you and then I would get a verbal lashing for days. These are not happy times for us and I am sorry I was not stronger for you but it made our bond even tighter. I prayed through your teenage years as you were wild and hanging with a crowd I didn't like. You were tough on the outside yet have this huge heart of gold.

You pushed me away yet I held on tight. I told you all the good you had inside of yourself, all the things you could and would be, and all the things you didn't hear from your dad. I knew you were a chosen child God had placed here for a reason and I was always going to be in your corner.

You were the one who told me to leave and be happy, it was because of your words that I had the courage to leave. Together with your sister, we made a new life and yes, God answered my prayers. You finally straighten out and now you are an incredible young woman with a smart, streetwise head on her shoulders.

You are not only beautiful on the outside but just as beautiful on the inside and I am so proud of you and this life you will be embarking on.

I cry as I write this because I know you will do big things with your life as you are a survivor. You now know your worth and will never settle for less. You have seen your fair share of pain in your life and have lost way too many people in such a short time and that has made you realize that life is too short and you need to make the most of every moment.

But all of this that you've gone through has made you the wonderful woman you are today.

I love you so much there are not enough words to express my love for you.

So I will tell you to soar...To fly on the wings of the angels that keep you safe and that first put you in my arms. You are meant to soar my child.

I will always be here cheering you on, always ready to hold your hand or for a shoulder to cry on if you need it.

This is just the beginning of your incredible life....so live it large! Live it on your terms and always remember to dance to the beat of your own drummer!

With all my love,

Now, always and forever

Mom

"Be the change you want to see"

[mychemicalmenopause]

Wish me luck

As I woke from my third nap, confused about what day it was and where I was supposed to be next, I could feel the tension building in my neck and shoulders, the tenderness in my breasts, and throbbing pressure behind my eyes. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep, but I had already hit the snooze button 4 times and now I had a headache. I checked my phone and had my usual 2 missed calls, several work messages, and a couple texts from friends. I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone out of reach, pulled the blanket over my head and closed my eyes. Hell week was here again.

Last week I was trying to decide between January and February for a hysterectomy after finally getting a "yes" from my new doctor, only to find out yesterday that the doctor hadn't read the information I left for him until after the surgery was scheduled (for January). When I was in the office, he told me he was definitely in on removing my uterus to help with the bad bleeding and endometriosis symptoms. I told him I also wanted my ovaries removed in order to stop the cycles of hormones that cause my PMDD. He said because of my age, it could take years off my life if it doesn't help and that's a big risk. He said he would review the information I brought and that I could 'probably twist his arm' into the oophorectomy. Dr. Williams called and said he wanted to try chemical menopause for 6 months to make sure my body not only tolerates the meds I would need after surgery anyway, but to ensure the meds actually alleviate my PMDD symptoms. I'm thankful for this option, as I didn't know it existed, but I'm frustrated because I spent a week trying to wrap my head around the fact that I finally got a "yes" and stressing about when to schedule it. Now, I have to try and prepare for menopause to happen in a couple weeks instead of in January.

I'm terrified, to be honest. Luckily, chemical menopause is reversible if it doesn't help with PMDD, but that also means that I'll have to live with PMDD for another 15-ish years until my body goes into menopause on its own, even if I still get my uterus removed. That's a pretty defeating thought, but I'm trying to stay as positive as I possibly can for a skeptical realist with an attitude problem. I know that I'm going to have to give this process 100% and that it may be the hardest thing I've ever done. This is likely going to consume me for the next several weeks / months, so I'm planning to keep a log of everything here...