Things have been spiraling out of control around here. Everything, from work, to infertility, to finances, to friends and family... the one thing holding fast is our marriage. By the grace of God, despite the warnings that Advent would put us through the wringer, we are stronger than ever. Prayer Buddy, don't think I don't realize how much you must be praying your little TAIL off!! Thank you!
But then this leads me back to all the other areas - mostly work, and infertility. I have had the worst work week of my life last week, working through the weekend, and started to feel sick Sunday night. It was bound to happen, but this is my WORST NIGHTMARE!!!! I CANNOT GET SICK!!! The only other people who can "fill in" for me are the Drs at the Centers where I work, and when they have a full schedule already, it really isn't feasible. Not to mention, different people measure differently, and FORGET about cancelling all patients for the day - I would have ruined at least three women's entire ultrasound series if I had cancelled. So... basically, I cannot take a sick day. Talk about stress.
So, instead, I sleep in past my alarm and wind up an hour and a half late to my first job. I had to call the first patient to let her know I was running late, and thankfully, the Dr was able to do her ultrasound before his first appointment for the day. Then, I swapped appointment times with the 2nd patients, and ended up only 15 minutes late for the 3rd appointment. Not to mention, I was in a complete daze. I felt like I had taken Dayquil, I was so out of it. I was coughing, sneezing, probably looked like death warmed over but I refused to look in the mirror.
When I finally got a moment to breathe, I went to ask the nurse if my P+8 labs had come back. Which leads me to stress #2: infertility. Remember how my progesterone levels and estradiol levels were through the roof last cycle? And how I figured, oh great, no need to supplement progesterone any more! Looks like my body doesn't like the sudden absence of supplementation, because my progesterone was TEN. Yes, 10. And estradiol was 171. It's amazing how the mind has power over the body, because almost immediately when she gave me the results, I started to feel crampy.
And that's where I am, now. Crampy, moody, and oh so SAD. I realize that come January, there will be no more "trying," at least, actively, to conceive. I made an appointment for myself with my NaPro Dr on Thursday, to discuss the long-term plan for wellbeing and no meds (if possible). I just cannot keep paying $45/month for progesterone, pay such close attention to when P+3 is, etc. for the remainder of my cycling years. At the same time, if a pregnancy were to miraculously occur, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I miscarried and I could have prevented it. I need to see what the Dr thinks.
Seriously... 10???? Give me a BREAK, here!!!
This week is so hard, in so many ways. But I have been counting my blessings that my marriage is on the way up, and healing is taking place. Last night, we were watching White Christmas, and one of the songs had these lyrics:
"If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings"
(I ignored the lyrics about the nursery with all the curly heads in their beds.)
It's hard to see my blessings, and I find myself getting depressed wondering why I have to be content to have the blessing of a healing marriage when so many of my friends have a marriage that was never challenged to begin with, AND a house full of children's laughter, AND financial security, etc. etc. But then I realize just how much my husband and I have been through, and continue to go through, every day. It surely is a blessing that we have made it this far, and that we are carrying these crosses together. When I remember the huge blessing in that, I always say a prayer for those single people out there, searching and hoping for the chance to find someone to help them carry their cross.
Please say a prayer for me this week, if you can... as I prepare to welcome yet another period just in time to celebrate Christmas. Irony appears to be the glue that holds my life together.