Like mother, like daughter

It's been a while, but that is what comes of not dwelling on things, as so many kind hearted people have suggested. Gone is the foul powder, replaced by tablets instead and some weird stuff called Stabillium which is a kind of non addictive, non sedative, calming potion made from deep sea fish entrails - no honestly, I know it sounds like something from Hamlet but darn it, it seems to work. Actually do genuinely feel a bit better, despite having to halt taking everything last week when I had stomach pain so bad my GP thought I had gall-stones. An ultrasound showed I don't, but it was a rough week as everything I ate caused me pain. Chalk that down as mystery virus as I am still none the wiser. A moment passed where I was wishing for a better reason for an ultrasound but I was so relieved not to have gall-stones I barely flickered.
Generally I am ok, less miserable on the whole. Still surrounded by pregnancy, still wondering why folks just don't get it. I know I can have IUI once I have had laparoscopy to check for endometriosis, I'm going to give it some time before I go there, so I just need my sex life back and I can ignore all this for a while. Might be a week or so before I am back as I am off to see the new twins my sister in law delivered a few weeks ago, bear with me, no news means I probably feel ok!

A resounding 'not pregnant', which made me a little glum last night but now I am mainly wondering if my right-sided pain is regular period pain or something more sinister like endometriosis. Which also makes me wonder why nobody has looked into this given my previous history of painful periods. See, I have cleverly replaced one worry with another. Worry off-setting is a about as effective as carbon-offsetting in the medium term but has the same pleasant effect of dulling the original pain. Babies everywhere as usual but on a good day I can remind myself we were all babies once so I may as well just get on with it. Still taking the foul powder, which mysteriously tasted ok yesterday but not today.
Finding it very hard to power down and do very little but know in my heart that this is the answer, lets see what the next month brings

Twice a day I have to mix a foul powder with some apple and mango juice and neck it as quickly as I can to avoid tasting it. I usually do this with my nose pinched so I can't smell it either. I don't know what I dislike less, the horrible overly sweet smell and taste or the slightly animal smell that I am guessing comes from the famous glandular extracts. I am hoping this will replace the extracts I am not so good at making any more and give my body a break. As if this wasn't bad enough my body has decided that half the time it will start to feel nauseous as soon as the foul mixture hits my stomach. This I should add, is despite a buffer of a full stomach. Yesterday morning I felt pukey for about an hour. No clue why that hasn't happened today but duly thankful all the same. The suggestion is that I do this for three months, or until I get pregnant. Never has there been more desire to hit the biological jackpot.

Recently I have been pulled in to the whole Facebook phenomenon. On the one hand this is a true delight, as I have heard from loads of 'missing' people I am really happy to hear from. The hard thing to take is they all seem to have kids, usually two. I feel like it is a club I am not being allowed to join, which is horrible as that has always been a sure fire way to press my buttons anyway. I am happy for them but still so jealous. The night before last I had a dream that I had blown my chances because I had eaten some bread and smoked a cigarette, things I don't really have any desire to do in real life. Isn't it shocking how loudly your subconscious can knock. I have to remind myself that it isn't my 'fault' and that when we manage this it will be a joy so hard won, I will be changed, just a little, but forever.

Today I started on a foul witches brew that is supposed to help sort out my adrenal glands. Problem is I can't actually drink the stuff. The first two mouthfuls are ok and from there on in it makes me want to honk. I guess if you have ever tried Chinese herbs you will know where I am coming from. Thing is, I really want to take this stuff. Now that my spitting in tube (AKA Saliva Hormone Assays) has identified a potential area to address I just want to address it. The wonderful folks at Zita West recommended this stuff, my endocrinologist has done her tests to back this up. So now, seven vials of blood and two spectacular bruises later, I look like a junkie but I am good to go. Trouble is I took the damn stuff an hour ago and I still feel icky. Going to have to forage for apple juice to mix with it to even attempt a dose later. The stuff is called Dynamite Adrenals and I would welcome any tips you might have on getting the stuff into you, if you happen to be on it

This is also week two of not eating wheat, which initially freaked me out and is now absolutely fine. I have lost a kilo and feel pretty good. Still sleepy but good and less maudlin

The weirdest news has to be that we can go ahead and do IUI whenever we want to start, provided I have a laproscopy to see if I have endometriosis first. I have no symptoms, nobody has thought to check this before but apparently it could make the choice between IUI and starting IVF straight away. If my bits are stuck together inside we go straight to plan B. Very strange and quite surprising, I can't really decide if I am actually ok with this or not. Is it my gynaecologist liking the idea or is it really necessary as general anaesthesia and a camera in my pelvis is not my idea of enhancing my chances. However it might actually be very sensible...the good news is the advice from the gynae is to wait a while and fix adrenal glands in the meantime so I guess its back to the powder of nausea...

Dear Husband is asleep on the sofa. It is late and he was out last night and many drinks later got in early this morning. There was a rumour of some sex this evening but that isn't going to be happening. I have just been on the phone with my best friend (the one with the pregnant brain who forgot my birthday- I love this woman) We got to talking about our men and hers is a slightly old fashioned Teutonic lawyer, whereas mine has all the appearance of a new man. On the surface very different animals but scratch the surface and they are very similar. Neither takes as much responsibility as we do.
It makes me so sad that mine doesn't really share responsibility for trying to get pregnant and it worries me that this will be the same once we have a child. He doesn't ask if I am late with my period. Occasionally it occurs to him but he doesn't ask even when it does. He doesn't buy the vitamins, he only makes appointments if I tell him to and he bluntly isn't given a choice. He did actually even come to some until I was so upset by my gynaecologist he had to. He doesn't think about how to improve our sex life. He doesn't think about what he eats. He especially doesn't think about what he drinks, even if that might knacker his sperm for a couple of cycles. He doesn't initiate conversations about how we are doing. He sometimes has sex and he probably thinks he puts up with me going on about this a lot. In my worst moments I wonder if I want him to be a dad. Maybe I should actually stop trying rather than just talking about it.

For the first time in ages, I have been properly,miserably, stuck in bed, no energy even to read, sick. It was 'only' a head cold but it knocked me sideways for five days. Of course I can measure how long ago it was I was last ill using my new measure of 'fertility time' and can tell you that I was last sick a trimester after we started trying.....
As is sometimes the case when you have been ill and forced to think about nothing, I have woken up strangely refreshed now that my brain is no longer cushioned in a sea of snot. A few random thoughts have sprung to my freshly scrubbed mind.

Annoyingly I had a random thirty five day cycle, after several months of twenty eight to thirty days. Maybe I was a little pregnant, maybe not. I got my period just as I got ill so have no idea if my grotty feeling was early pregnancy or early illness. Either way I have come out the other end with an addiction to Chai Tea. I am crazed for the stuff, no caffeine, no sugar, what's not to like?

My pregnant best friend is loosing her marbles. She forgot my birthday, which in itself is not hanging offence, and is spotty and cries at the least provocation. I couldn't NOT forgive her for forgetting my birthday because she might cry. Part of my jealousy of the gestating community is how special what they are doing is and how specially we treat them. It isn't wrong that this is special. I just feel sad I don't know what it feels like.

I am not sure my business with my mother is done. When I spoke with Zita West about losing this baggage I thought I might write a letter.Not to post, just to write. I'm scared of the emotions I might unleash and I can't quite bring myself to do it. Then again, the hypnotist was wrong, no September pregnancy for me. It would have been a lovely birthday present.

So where am I? I have failing adrenal glands. Not the easily Googled Addison's, but a milder version that may or may not be linked to my bloods keenness to clot. I have to share this with my endocrinologist at our next meeting, which might be interesting as she didn't order the test. I don't really know what all this means and what can be done. The lovely London Doctor referred me to a colleague who is a a herbalist and nutritionist. She suggested cutting out all dairy and gluten, just as a start and frankly didn't really answer my questions very well when I asked about her plan of action. Everything seems to be tied to my blood type. The Endo is likely to regard the problem as too mild to treat I suspect so I have booked an appointment with Zita West next week on the phone to see if she is the middle-way, voice of common sense. Chronic Adrenal disease is linked to AntiPhospholipid Syndrome so who knows.

I have a strange bruise like mark on the top side of my foot, just by my ankle. It is bluer than the rest of my foot, not sore, not tender but slightly swollen. My reflexologist spotted it. I'm sure my dad has patches like that on his feet. It has a twin on my other foot. The relexologist wants me to go to the doctor but I can't face queueing at eight AM for a walk in appointment and fixed appointments at short notice are rare a rocking horse poo. We will see how freaked out I get.

I desperately want to forget about trying for a baby yet am surrounded by birth announcements and pregnant women. Husband still hasn't bought me a vibrator yet.....

Before I was worried by my fertility, I really had no idea just how much stuff was out there about the topic. I only really stumbled on the topic when I first started looking up pregnancy symptoms. The first time we tried to get pregnant I had the longest cycle of my life, grew enormous boobs, went off coffee, everything tasted of tin and generally I thought it might be happening. Several negative tests later and two weeks late I finally had a truly horrid period. We will never know what really happened but it sent me scurrying to Google to see what might be going on.

My internet adventures started with lurking around chat boards trying to understand early pregnancy symptoms and if I might eventually get two pink lines instead of one on my test stick. I learned a lot during this time, which frankly I would rather unlearn. Bizarrely I went from being someone who never really had PMT symptoms like sore boobs and fluid retention to being someone who actually felt quite pregnant for a few days each month, even though I clearly wasn't. It is quite likely that this started off all in my head, but believe me, it's real now. During this time, my much loved London Doctor postulated that I had an implantation problem. A theory which I have been kind of haunted by ever since. Reading my Basal Body Temperature Charts in the same way some people read runes, he declared this to be a distinct possibility. Needless to say the web-action stepped up to include some infertility sites and some medical publications and research papers.

My gynaecologist, once I had one, totally rejected this idea. But there again this is the same guy who refused to even think about treating my mild hypothyroidism. Bizarrely the colleague and endocrinologist he referred me to was adamant that we should treat it. They work about fifty feet apart...By now my internet researching expertise was a marketable skill and I was also trying to understand what the hell was going on with my thyroid as well as the rest of my bits. The Endocrinologist also agreed to run all the auto-immune and clotting tests I had been wanting to have done. They came back almost normal, bar a little speedy blood clotting and some ANA (Anti-Nuclear Antibody) action that could just be down to some recurring infection. So after a year of being poked and prodded it was my husbands turn.

Around this time I think I had the biggest row with him so far. Well at least since the baby odessy began. He didn't read anything, he didn't research anything, he didn't ask the right questions. He thought he was doing well coming to defend me from the gynaecologist who talked to his face with his hand up my fanny. I was not impressed by either of them and I let the one I was actually married to know about it. He read a lot and still sometimes surprises me by coming up with something I haven't extracted from Google. His tests had been 'pretty much normal' and you can see in one of my earlier posts that we finally managed to do some of the other tests he wanted to do in London, which were all fine. We also think we have managed to switch gynaecologist.

By early 2007 I was on thyroid medication and feeling a bit better, or at least not as bad. I still get knackered the next day after staying up past midnight and I still haven't shifted the weight I gained but I can't really tell what is normal any more. We decide that we are starting again with baby making and would count from me being well again. Around that time my internet attention shifted from the technicalities of infertility to the whole experience.

Stumbling across the blogs of Tertia, Julie and Julie gave my experience some shape and navigation. I didn't know these women, but they don't talk about sprinkling baby dust and use cutesy abbreviations for every detail that you can be euphemistic about. My particular pet peeve is talking about 'Baby Dancing' instead of talking about sex. I can only imagine the horrified expression on my husband's face if he had the least suspicion I talked about Baby Dancing to anyone. In these women's blogs there are no ticker tapes showing when babies, who are probably in primary school by now, were due to be born. They are sometimes raw and angry but they are always real and honest and I thank them so much for that. They make me feel like a normal human being, qualified to say what I think, whether I believe in faeries, God or the Easter Bunny or none of the above. I have even commented on their blogs occasionally, because I actually care and don't feel like a dork doing it. These women are the reason I blog today. It is my own little private corner where I don't have to modulate my response to anything. I can rant, rave, use obscenely long words, in short, it is my party.

The latest part of the puzzle fell into place this week when I finally got the results back from spitting in a tube once every three days ( AKA a Saliva Hormone Assay done by the good folks at Geneva Diagnostics in New Malden). I can't tell you the fun I had trying to persuade my local TNT office that actually it was perfectly safe and legal to courier my precious and now de-frosted samples. We were finally testing one of my London Doctor's reasonable hypotheses, that I might have a luteal phase defect. As it happens, it looks like I don't although I have a wee bit too much Estrogen in my system. Thanks to my superior internet research skills I know this is normal-ish for someone with a slow thyroid and I await the hard copy to see if it really warrants action. Much more impressively, an internet grown hunch of mine, was revealed to be correct. Since I first started researching my Thyroid problems I wondered whether the sheer stress of the last few years had finally buggered up my adrenal glands. My Endocrinologist had thought this might be a possibility also and ordered a cortisol blood test. Which came back normal-ish. With the saliva test you track cortisol through the whole day and mine is normal in the morning, it just gives up mid-morning and is pitifully low for the rest of the day. So now I need to tell my endocrinologist the results of this test in a polite and respectful way, that ensures she doesn't feel like I have been checking up on her. Although I have been suspecting this diagnosis for a while, the cortisol testing was just part of whole battery of saliva tests London Doctor ordered and was an oddly pleasant surprise

It feels good to have my hunch borne out, even if it took a while, but in fact most of my diagnoses have been spot on. I have often found myself ignoring them for fear of being some with 'Internet-itis' but from now on I am going to trust my gut feel. So it is back on the baby aspirin and on with the attempts to get my mother baggage out my system. Other than that I think as my adrenal glands get a bit better it is all going to be just fine.

Footnotes to this long scribe:
I don't have Addisons just yet. I have Adrenal Insufficiency rather than a complete pack up so we are going to try natural support, maybe DHEA and then steroids if we have to. I have a conversation scheduled with a colleague of London Doctor on Monday

Interestingly DHEA , the under production of which results from Adrenal Insufficiency is now being given to older IVF patients to improve the performance of their ovaries. It is so successful in some cases they aren't making it to IVF because they get pregnant.

Internet-itis is a condition whereby you develop conditions you have just read about on the internet and then convince yourself it is fatal. I have had it a couple of times and my friend M had it once or twice, we try to keep each other straight.

Every time I catch myself thinking about whether I am pregnant I am saying 'whatever' to myself and anyone else who is listening. Does this count as not thinking about it?

From a fun and fabulous time in France which included such delights as barbecued duck breast and travelling in a convoy of friends to the Ile de Re. Delightful. And now I am back and grumpy. I'm always grumpy when I get back here and spend a good week wondering why I actually live here. Today my husband is driving me nuts with his lack of communication skills and ability to spend upwards of an hour, just 'popping in' to a record store. And the fact that sex four times in two weeks doesn't seem like a lot to me. And that he doesn't talk dirty or in fact really do dirty, well not since we grew up and stopped getting beyond wasted at the weekend and boy was that a long time ago. And that I feel so gender neutral without someone who really obviously lusts after me. And that I'm not sure if I ovulated but shouldn't I be ignoring all that right now - but wait didn't I offer to swap trying to get pregnant for hot sex? I'm not sure if this blog constitutes 'thinking too much about trying to get pregnant' but as I still am thinking, I still am blogging. Two girls who used to work for me are both waiting to deliver just now, or at least I think they are and haven't yet popped. It doesn't help.

Long Time Best Friend and I had a huge long talk on the 'phone last night. It has been long overdue and came as a huge relief to both of us. She has been trying for baby number two and is now nine weeks pregnant. This is the pregnancy I was dreading. She will have two babies, I will have not had one yet. She is due in April and it is, to my surprise, ok. I am genuinely happy for her and found it remarkably easy to talk to her about it. So much for expectation. I also found it easy to talk about my recent adventures in the netherworld of unexplained fertility. The first time LTBF got pregnant, it was the first month she tried and she spent a goodly time feeling very strange about it. It was seeing her with her baby that really switched on my biological clock about two years ago. It took me about six months to take some action and most of the rest you know. This time around she again got pregnant straight away and then had a very early miscarriage. I have a photo of her from around that time and her smile has the same slightly tight look that mine has occasionally. At the time she claimed to be fine, but a few weeks later it hit home harder. Since then she has been trying not to be freaked out by not getting pregnant. She knows what the two-week-wait feels like now and I am glad she understands. She got pregnant as soon as she stopped worrying about it. Before her current pregnancy I think it was hard for her to talk to me. Perhaps because when something is hurting you, but someone you care about has the been carrying the same hurt for longer, it is hard to know what to say. Last night I was glad that she is pregnant and even more glad that I have her back.