My New Friend, Patience

I’m not patient. Never have been.

Bonus: I’ve always been anxious, too. A really bad combo with impatience. It’s like the one-two punch of badness. Because while I’m waiting for whatever it is I’m waiting for, I can think of a million what if scenarios. A million reasons why I might not get what I want. A million reasons why I might not even deserve what I want. A million reasons to feel guilty for wanting more when I already have so much. And these thoughts can spiral on and on and on, until I barely remember what it is I’m waiting for, and why.

Logically, I’m in a good place right now. I got my period, only 33 days after the last one. That’s just shy of regular! Pretty freakin’ cool. Maybe I can finally start trying to get pregnant, for real now. I should be ecstatic. And I am.

But still. I feel those anxious, impatient thoughts creeping in, trying to throw me off my positive game. Which is why I’m writing this post. I’m attempting to stop those thoughts in their tracks.

Last week I visited my family in Nantucket. My brother and sister were there, as well as my adorable niece and nephew. Look at these two. So cute, right?

Now that I’m ready to have kids, I found myself noticing different things than the last time I saw my niece and nephew (which was way too long ago). What I noticed, mostly, is their bond with their parents. I noticed the way my sister and my niece snuggled up together without a second thought. The way my nephew and my brother laughed and played together.

And I ached for it. I wanted, so much, that closeness with a child of my own.

At the same time, I felt like a jerk for feeling that way. Why isn’t my life, the way it is now, enough? Why aren’t my wonderful husband, amazing friends and fun job enough? Why am I always wanting more? What’s up with this crazy need to go to the next thing, the next place?

I tell myself this all the time: be happy with your life because it’s great. Soon enough you will have a child and then everything will change. I would say 90% of me believes this, but then there’s that evil 10% that doubts.

That evil 10% that says, what if you don’t? What if you are never able to have a child? What will you do then, smarty pants?

And right now I’m going to say screw you, 10%. I’m going to be patient, even if it’s only for the next five minutes. I’m going to go kiss Tim and each one of my four pets. And I’m going to wait and see what happens.

Visit With the Spesh: Part II

The Fat Experiment continues.

Miss hearing about my ovaries? Lucky for you, I have another update. Get ready for a barrage of too much information. 

Tim and I went back to the fertility specialist last week.

What did she say? It was pretty much good news all around. My latest round of hormone tests came back normal, which means I don’t have to get a brain MRI. Score! Tim’s swimmers are all normal as well. Double score!

She did an ultrasound and some blood work to see if I’d ovulated yet this month (isn’t it crazy how they can tell that?). The ultrasound came back inconclusive and the blood work showed that ovulation was a no go. This was a downer, as it had been several weeks since my last period. Even though the doctor warned me not to expect a regular period after not getting one for four months, I was bummed.

But! Thanks to these handy-dandy things called ovulation predictor kits, I discovered that I did ovulate a few days after the visit. So while I’m not totally back on track, I’m definitely heading in the right direction. A small victory, but a victory all the same.

Before you start to get worried: I promise I will not share with you every time I ovulate. Gross. This is a special case, though, as it was the first time since the Great Fat Experiment began.

Anyway, the doctor turned us loose for the next three months, instructing me to a) keep eating the fat and b) track my cycle. At the end of the three months, we’ll reconvene and assess.

And that concludes the latest edition of Ovary Digest. Until next time…

Who’s Afraid of Needles?

Not Me. Not anymore.

I get pricked with dozens of needles each week (willingly) at this place:

Philadelphia Community Acupuncture. It’s up the road from my house and it’s awesome.

But real quick, a little acupuncture 101. Here’s what goes down: an acupuncturist sticks super-thin (and I mean thin, like hair thin) needles into various points in your skin. This is supposed to improve circulation, as well as release endorphins and serotonin into your brain. All of this allegedly makes you feel like a rock star and cures a variety of ailments.

In the US, acupuncture is usually performed in cubicles or other sectioned-off spaces, but this place treats everyone in the same room, in recliner chairs. They say this is more in line with traditional practices in Asia. Something about creating a collective energetic field and blah, blah, blah. You can choose to sit in a fancy modern mesh recliner or an old-school plush lazy boy with a blanket over it. I always go for the lazy boy.

Sound weird? It is, a little, at first. But the treatment room is in a huge old firehouse with brick walls and high ceilings. Light filters through big windows, making everything look warm and soft. There’s usually soothing music playing on low in the background and everyone talks in whispers. It’s very calming. Plus, the style of acupuncture they use only inserts needles on your arms up to your elbow, your legs up to you knees, and your head. So it’s not like you have to strip down or lift up your shirt or anything. Because that would be weird.

Does it hurt? Nah, not really. The needles are so thin and they don’t go very deep. Once in a while, they’ll put one in a tough spot, like the side of my foot or the web between my thumb and index finger, and that will hurt. But usually only for a second.

Here’s the cool part. After the acupuncturist finishes inserting the needles, covers me with blankets and tells me to have a good rest, something happens. I close my eyes and, bam, I get a rush. My body feels light and heavy at the same time. I feel instantly relaxed. After a few minutes, I find that I can’t really open my eyes, even if I wanted to. And, sometimes, I fall asleep.

I fall asleep.

I do not take naps. Ever. My mind is constantly humming with all sorts of anxious-making thoughts. I am mentally wired, always. So the fact that I can fall asleep in a room that is not my bedroom, surrounded by dozens of people, in the middle of the day, is a small miracle.

I originally started going to Philadelphia Community Acupuncture to treat carpal tunnel and irregular periods. My carpal tunnel, which had been bothering me for a couple of years, was gone within a month. Poof. The irregular periods? Well, that’s just taking a little longer, I suppose.

Regardless of what acupuncture cures or doesn’t cure for me, every time I get up from that recliner, I feel rested, relaxed and calm. To me, that is worth a million bucks. And then some.

Visit With the Spesh

Me with my new best friend, almonds!

Last week Tim and I went to see a fertility specialist.

I’ll go ahead and begin my very first post with some over-sharing. Prior to this specialist visit, I hadn’t gotten a period in months. Four months to be exact. This has been a source of great frustration and angst for me. Tim and I are ready to have a baby, oh, like, now, but that’s not going to happen without the ole monthly cycle. I stopped taking birth control pills in October. Since then, I’ve had a few regular periods, one very late period, and then they just disappeared altogether.

I went to see an OBGYN after a couple of months of this no-show business. The doctor ran some basic hormone tests, seriously freaked me out by saying I might be in early menopause (sayonara, dream of having children), and sent me away with a prescription called Provera. Provera is basically progesterone in pill form. You take it for five days, and once you stop, the progesterone withdrawal is supposed to bring on a period. It didn’t work. Boo.

Luckily, my hormone tests came back normal, so early menopause was out, along with a variety of other scary things (sigh of relief). But still, no period. Hence, the specialist referral.

Now, onto the visit: From the moment we stepped into the office, I knew we were in good hands. The receptionists were friendly. Friendly. This is rarity in my experience. Maybe it has something to do with living in a city, I don’t know.  When I walked back to get my blood pressure taken, etc., a woman passed by and smiled at Tim and me. A real, genuine smile. Even though she was wearing a breezy summer top and not an imposing lab coat, I knew this was our doctor, and that made me very happy. After a few minutes, we went into this woman’s office and she asked both of us a million, billion questions. The whole session felt very personal. She explained everything thoroughly and was careful and considerate of our feelings. Tim and I loved her. After a stretch of bad doctors and OBGYNs, this was a much-needed breath of fresh air.

Her diagnosis? I’m not eating enough fat.

Wait, what? You mean, it can really be as simple as that?

I had lost 20 lbs for my wedding last August and kept it off for a year (more on that in another post). She said that, even though I am a normal body weight for my height, I am being too careful about what I’m eating, and the lack of fat is causing my body to go into self-preservation mode. She ran some more blood work and instructed Tim to get a sperm analysis, but seemed confident the fat was the problem. We have another appointment with her in a couple of weeks to go over the results.

The day after the visit, I got my period. For the first time in four months. A few weeks ago, Tim and I went on vacation and I ate my face off. I came back from that vacation 6 lbs heavier. So I think it took that extra six pounds to get my body working again. Seems like pretty good evidence to support the doctor’s theory.

I’m going to continue to diligently add more fat to each and every meal. And hopefully this is the beginning of a new era, an era where my period comes every month on schedule. An era that will hopefully bring about what I want most in the world right now: a pregnancy.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go eat some celebratory almonds and avocados.