I have at least 5 posts ready to go in my head, and the most important one being the follow-up to the Birth Control Story: My Creighton Model Story.
But I just don't feel like writing. I feel like the past 2 days have been a long Good Friday, and I don't know how long it will last.
Please keep my dear friend in your prayers. Prayer Buddy if you are reading this, I ask you to please forgo my intentions and instead pray for my friend.
Dear Lord, deliver us.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
My Birth Control Story
A while ago, Leila from Catholic Bubble had a very animated conversation going on over at her blog (which isn't unusual by any means!), but this time a college student chimed in about her experience with the "hook-up" culture on college campuses, and premarital sex. When I read her comments and responses to questions posed her, it really resonated with me, and ever since that time, it has been weighing on my heart that I should share my story here. Because I KNOW my story is not a unique one, and because it is not unique, it may be able to help just one person to not make the same mistakes I did.
Of course, it has taken me a long time to get to the point where I felt comfortable writing it for anyone in the world to see. But this is Lent. A time to reach down deep, confront old demons, and release them. I need to do this. And any lingering feelings of embarrassment and humiliation I may have when I click "publish post" I will be offering for the intentions of my Prayer Buddy. (Trust me, Prayer Buddy, you are going to BENEFIT BIG-TIME from this one.)
So, here goes. My birth control story.
When I was 19 years old, I came home from my first semester of college and begged my mother to take me to the gynecologist. I had been having irregular periods for about a year, but the bothersome part was the unusual bleeding. I would have a normal flow, followed by days and days and days of spotting. When one period lasted 21 days, I drew the line and knew I had to go to the Dr.
So off we went, to the gynecologist appointment together- me, a 19-year old college student and virgin, and my mother, a devout Catholic very much opposed to the birth control pill.
You can surely see where this is going.
The appointment that followed may still be counted among the most horrific, humiliating experiences of my life. What I know now that I did not know then is that, while a virgin, I did not have a hymen. I had had an accident on the playground jungle gym in the 3rd grade that caused me to bleed a lot; my mother at the time thought it was my period starting early (in actuality it didn't come until I was 14 1/2). It was, as it turns out, my hymen.
So, there in the stirrups at my very first Dr's appointment excepting my pediatrician and orthodontist, the Dr was examining me while asking me health history questions. "Are you sexually active?" he inevitably asked, without looking up. "No," I answered truthfully.
Next thing I know, he's explaining that I am going to feel something cold, and before I have time to react, I am in the midst of my first (UNNECESSARY) Pap Smear. It. was. excruciating. I remember limping in pain out of the office 30 minutes later. (Clearly, the Dr saw that I had no hymen and assumed I was lying? Or maybe he's just a sick, sick sadist?)
He tells me to get dressed and meet him in his office. There in his office, he begins his sales speech for the pill. He tells me that it will fix the abnormal bleeding that I've been seeing, and help to regulate my periods. He goes on to say that it has the added benefit of treating acne, and that my skin will clear up while I'm taking it. And finally, he closes with, "And when you meet that special someone, it is a very effective form of contraception!"
My head was spinning. I remember asking how long I had to take it, and he said 6 months should be enough to get my periods back on track. OK, I thought. I can handle 6 months. It sounded like a pretty quick fix, to me. 6 months of medication, during which time my periods would be normal, and then when I came OFF the medication, they'd be normal once again from that point on.
Oh how silly and uninformed I was.
As I limped out of his office and into the waiting room, with a slip of paper the Dr had given me, I was greeted by my mother who had a look of worry on her face. I think Abby Johnson said it best when she wrote that if only we based more of our decisions on what would make our mothers happy and proud of us, we would be so much better off. My mother knew all along, without REALLY knowing, that this was the beginning of my demise.
Still in a daze, I handed the sheet of paper to the woman at the front desk. Up until then, I had only been given "paper" by one Dr, my orthodontist, which was a follow-up sheet that I was to give to the front desk to schedule my next appointment. I had assumed this paper was the same thing. Then I was startled out of my daze and back into humiliation when the lady shoved the paper back at me and quite loudly quipped, "This is your prescription for birth control pills. I don't need this!" Talk about mortification.
In case you haven't already guessed, 6 months later when I came off the pill, my periods were anything BUT regular. However, in that interim, I had started to get used to the idea of being a sophomore in college with periods I could rely on, and more importantly, with beautiful, clear skin... especially since I was looking and waiting for a boyfriend. Now that I had stopped taking my pills, what I saw looming ahead of me was a return of crazy bleeding and acne flare-ups. NOT appealing. I told my mom I had to go back on them, but she wasn't convinced. So off we went to gynecologist #2.
Gynecologist #2 was a very educated man, and after a brief physical exam (NO PAP), he took me to his office, and drew me pictures of ovaries with lots of tiny cysts on them. I had no idea what he was talking about, and frankly, I didn't care. I just sat there politely pretending to listen, waiting for him to hand over the prescription for my happy pills. Which of course, he did. This time with instructions to stay on for one year.
By the end of my sophomore year, I had fallen deeply in love with a guy I had met on my first day and told my friends back home he was the one I would marry. And to my surprise, by the end of my sophomore year, he had fallen in love with me, too. We had dated briefly right before he went to study abroad (he was a year older), and now he had just come back and we were back together and very serious.
You can surely see where this is going.
About two months into a "very serious" relationship with the man I was convinced I would marry, I somehow went from virgin to... well, not. I say somehow because it wasn't at all planned or necessarily talked about and decided. We had been physical already; such is the nature of college life, and I was no stranger to "hooking up," but at the same time was very proud that I had not given away my virginity to just anybody. I knew that I believed in the teachings of my Church. I knew that what I was doing was wrong. But in my mind, I rationalized that sex was reserved for marriage because you are only meant to do that with the man you are married to. I really didn't understand the complete beauty of sex at that point, but I was about to begin my education.
I remember that night vividly. Or maybe I should say that memories from that night continue to haunt me. I distinctly remember that we were very close to going that far, but still not quite there, when he suddenly jumped up and ran to his desk. I asked him what he was doing, and he said "Getting a condom... just... in case..." For some stupid reason, I assumed he meant "in case" HE went too far and we were at risk for pregnancy. (I may have been stupid about the pill, but I did know about contact pregnancy.) I told him "It's ok, I'm on the pill." To which he responded, "Oh... well... are you sure?" (This guy was not really known for his ability to articulate and convey an actual message.) And I responded, "Yeah, I'm sure. It's to regulate my periods, but it still 'works.'"
(I realize now he was basically asking me if I was "sure" that I wanted to have sex with him. So, basically, one of the biggest decisions of my life came down to not a well thought-out weighing of consequences, but rather an ambiguous exchange of "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I'm sure.")
This may seem odd to many of you, but I very clearly remember two things about that experience. The first is that my very first thought was: "Oh no... Mary never did this... I'm no longer like Mary." (Crazy the things that run through my head, but it's true.) The second is that the entire time, I washed away feelings of guilt with the overwhelming feeling that kept sweeping over me - a feeling of "THIS is so RIGHT! THIS is how it's SUPPOSED to be!" That feeling of coming together in union with another human being completely and totally, with no barriers (at least not in my mind) was absolutely intoxicating to me... the way it IS supposed to be, just not at all how I had warped it.
And so, ignoring the underlying guilt I continued to feel every once and a while, we continued being intimate. Over Fall Break, my prescription for the pill was up, and this time I was adament about staying on it. I threw a fit when my mother suggested I stop taking it for a while and see if my cycles normalized... because now, I actually needed that pill for contraception. But at the same time, both of us were not satisfied with the fact that no one had any answers for me about my health. WHY was I bleeding like this? WHY were my periods so irregular to begin with?? So we agreed to go together to Gyn/Midwife #3, recommended to us by my older sister. I was absolutely convinced that whether she gave us answers or not, I would be able to get more happy pills from her.
Gyn/Midwife #3 took me in her office first, alone. There she asked if I was sexually active, and I reponded truthfully that I was. She explained that she wanted to run a couple of tests on me, some bloodwork and an ultrasound, to find the issues that were causing my weird cycles. So we made a follow-up appointment for the following day for the ultrasound. On our way out of the office, I remember the ultrasound tech asking me, at the front desk where me and my mother were checking out, if I was a virgin. Of course being in front of my mother I said, "Yes," and she got a look of concern on her face and said, "Oh, wait a second, we can't do this type of ultrasound that was ordered... hold on, let me go tell the Dr." My face must have turned beet red. The tech came back, made minimal eye contact while she quickly said, "OK, it'll be fine, just come tomorrow as scheduled."
After the ultrasound and bloodwork, the Midwife took me back into her office and explained Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome - my diagnosis. I finally had an answer for all these years of crazy cycles! She was pretty detailed in her description, and finally, told me the solution was: (I know you've guessed it) The Pill. I was to stay on the pill up until the time I decided I was ready to have children. (I was 20 years old at the time.) Now this next part I rememer verbatum. I asked her: "Will being on the pill that long have any adverse effects on my ability to become pregnant when I want to?" (See, I was worried about my fertility even back then.) Her answer: "Oh, no, on the contrary- being on the pill tricks your body into thinking it's pregnant every month, so when you want to become pregnant and come off the pill, it should be very easy!"
I was sold. This stuff was the best thing on planet earth.
Back to school I went, and me and my boyfriend continued our physical relationhip up until I was about to study abroad for a semester. Soon before I left, we discussed our plans for the future, and he said he wanted to take a break. A break?? I. FREAKED. OUT. What did he mean a BREAK?? We were going to get married, what in the world did he need a BREAK for?!?! Didn't he realize what I had given to him??!! Inevitably, because I was not very agreeable when it came to the "break," we ended up breaking it off for good, instead. I was completely devastated. It was one of the lowest points of my life. It was as if I had just lost my husband, because, in a way, I had. I say that because I had given myself to him physically, in a way that I had always intended (and God had always intended) for me to give myself ONLY to my husband. I thought that if not in word, we were at least "physically married." But now what were we? What would we ever be? And what would be always be?? Everything was, in an instant, completely upside-down and backwards. What I didn't realize is that it had already started out backwards.
So then I left for Italy, and while on the plane from NYC to Venice, I sat right next to a very attractive guy with whom I would wind up spending the rest of my life. We hit it off immediately, exchanged phone numbers, and began talking on the phone frequently, in Italy. Eventually, he invited me to his roommate's birthday party, and we officially began dating.
Now, in my mind, when I began dating my DH, it was to be an Italian "fling" to help me get my ex out of my system. I still had a very unhealthy attachment to my ex that I just couldn't shake... and now looking back it makes perfect sense why I felt that way. Because sex, as beautiful and life-giving as it is, is only MEANT to be shared with one person, one spouse, one partner for life... and suddenly it no longer was that in my life.
I was determined to do something to release the hold my ex still had on me, across an ocean, over thousands of miles. (And the fact that he continued to email me things like "I miss you" and "Someone on the other side of the ocean is thinking about you" didn't quite help.)
Surely you see where this is going...
Way too soon, and way too impetuously, I slept with my new boyfriend (and present husband). And it worked... almost. I felt a physical detachment from my ex right after that, but I was still very much in love with him. And this poor new guy I was dating, well, he was just the catalyst to help me heal what couldn't really be healed.
I started to notice that my new boyfriend was quickly falling in love with me, but I did not, could not reciprocate the feelings. I didn't know what was wrong with me - hadn't I always told myself I would only sleep with ONE man, and now here I was sleeping with someone I didn't even love?? What a fast and furious downward spiral my life had taken, and I hadn't even had time to sit back and reflect on it.
Flashforward a couple years or so, when both of us were back in the States, still dating (long-distance), still sleeping together. At a certain point my birth control pill prescription expired, so off I went to another Dr. I was never worried that I wouldn't be able to get it re-filled, in fact, the thought never crossed my mind. I pretty much just had to ask for it and it was mine. No exam, no bloodwork, no other tests. So when one day the pharmacy charged me full price for them when my insurance didn't cover it, I was up in arms. "What??? What do you mean, I've ALWAYS had it covered!!" The pharmacist didn't know what to tell me, but finally asked, "Do you work for a Catholic organization?" "Yeah." (I had just started working as a Kindergarten teacher in a Catholic school.) "Oh, that explains it. They don't cover birth control." I was livid. "But this is for a medical purpose, I'm not on it for birth control," I practically yelled at the poor girl. Her hands were tied.
I refused to pay the full price for months on end, so I got one more month's worth and prayed for the best. Over the past 3 years, there had been several months in between prescription re-fills when I didn't take the pill, and R (now-DH) and I just used condoms. But I HATED condoms. Absolutely loathed them. I felt like there was a foreign "thing" in my body that did not belong there and was not supposed to be there, and it made me physically sick. I think about my reactions back then and see that I had the truth all along - I knew in my heart what human sexuality was all about, what sex was intended to be... but my being on the pill blurred that crystal clear vision to the point where I could now only see 3 feet in front of my face and not the whole picture. There was a time when I never would have thought of using a barrier method. Now it was just a necessary Plan B.
A month later, R and I were engaged. My plan had been to become celibate once we were engaged and wait until marriage to resume our sex life. (See what I mean? Warped indeed.) So, we did. R was at that point a very different man than the one I first started dating in Italy - he was matured, he had grown in his Catholic faith, and he welcomed my wishes to wait with open arms. And most importantly, he was a man I now loved.
When we got married and became intimate again, nothing was new, nothing was exciting. In fact, I remember for the first 6 months or longer feeling guilt every time we had sex. It was a feeling I just couldn't shake - why NOW did I have this overwhelming guilt? Why THEN did I feel the feeling of "This is how it's supposed to be!" and not now? Our marriage, while legitimate in the eyes of God, began on a rocky slope, and it felt like we had to constantly struggle to stay on our feet, specifically in regards to our sexuality. I felt like the bonding element of sex was not bonding us at all, and instead almost became a hurdle to our union.
And then came infertility. The biggest hurdle to our sex-life.
I don't think any woman (or man for that matter) could say that infertility didn't have some negative effects on their sex life. But in our case, it added a curveball to an already disrupted foundation. Over the past 5 years, we have worked through most of these issues, but I always wonder how much easier it would have been, and could have been, if I had made different decisions.
Being on the pill wreaked havoc for 6 years on my reproductive system. Syndromes and diseases like PCOS and endometriosis were exacerbated over those 6 years, and the pill masked them over to give me the illusion of normalcy and perfect health. But the worst thing the pill did to me was wreak havoc on my sexuality. From the moment I got my first prescription, I knew I was safe "just in case," and almost overnight my plans and goals shifted from long-term whole person wellbeing to short-term physical and emotional satisfaction.
I can't change my past, though often I wish I could. All I can hope is that God continues to heal my soul and my marriage. And praise Him, every day I see it happening more and more.
And that's my story.
Of course, it has taken me a long time to get to the point where I felt comfortable writing it for anyone in the world to see. But this is Lent. A time to reach down deep, confront old demons, and release them. I need to do this. And any lingering feelings of embarrassment and humiliation I may have when I click "publish post" I will be offering for the intentions of my Prayer Buddy. (Trust me, Prayer Buddy, you are going to BENEFIT BIG-TIME from this one.)
So, here goes. My birth control story.
When I was 19 years old, I came home from my first semester of college and begged my mother to take me to the gynecologist. I had been having irregular periods for about a year, but the bothersome part was the unusual bleeding. I would have a normal flow, followed by days and days and days of spotting. When one period lasted 21 days, I drew the line and knew I had to go to the Dr.
So off we went, to the gynecologist appointment together- me, a 19-year old college student and virgin, and my mother, a devout Catholic very much opposed to the birth control pill.
You can surely see where this is going.
The appointment that followed may still be counted among the most horrific, humiliating experiences of my life. What I know now that I did not know then is that, while a virgin, I did not have a hymen. I had had an accident on the playground jungle gym in the 3rd grade that caused me to bleed a lot; my mother at the time thought it was my period starting early (in actuality it didn't come until I was 14 1/2). It was, as it turns out, my hymen.
So, there in the stirrups at my very first Dr's appointment excepting my pediatrician and orthodontist, the Dr was examining me while asking me health history questions. "Are you sexually active?" he inevitably asked, without looking up. "No," I answered truthfully.
Next thing I know, he's explaining that I am going to feel something cold, and before I have time to react, I am in the midst of my first (UNNECESSARY) Pap Smear. It. was. excruciating. I remember limping in pain out of the office 30 minutes later. (Clearly, the Dr saw that I had no hymen and assumed I was lying? Or maybe he's just a sick, sick sadist?)
He tells me to get dressed and meet him in his office. There in his office, he begins his sales speech for the pill. He tells me that it will fix the abnormal bleeding that I've been seeing, and help to regulate my periods. He goes on to say that it has the added benefit of treating acne, and that my skin will clear up while I'm taking it. And finally, he closes with, "And when you meet that special someone, it is a very effective form of contraception!"
My head was spinning. I remember asking how long I had to take it, and he said 6 months should be enough to get my periods back on track. OK, I thought. I can handle 6 months. It sounded like a pretty quick fix, to me. 6 months of medication, during which time my periods would be normal, and then when I came OFF the medication, they'd be normal once again from that point on.
Oh how silly and uninformed I was.
As I limped out of his office and into the waiting room, with a slip of paper the Dr had given me, I was greeted by my mother who had a look of worry on her face. I think Abby Johnson said it best when she wrote that if only we based more of our decisions on what would make our mothers happy and proud of us, we would be so much better off. My mother knew all along, without REALLY knowing, that this was the beginning of my demise.
Still in a daze, I handed the sheet of paper to the woman at the front desk. Up until then, I had only been given "paper" by one Dr, my orthodontist, which was a follow-up sheet that I was to give to the front desk to schedule my next appointment. I had assumed this paper was the same thing. Then I was startled out of my daze and back into humiliation when the lady shoved the paper back at me and quite loudly quipped, "This is your prescription for birth control pills. I don't need this!" Talk about mortification.
In case you haven't already guessed, 6 months later when I came off the pill, my periods were anything BUT regular. However, in that interim, I had started to get used to the idea of being a sophomore in college with periods I could rely on, and more importantly, with beautiful, clear skin... especially since I was looking and waiting for a boyfriend. Now that I had stopped taking my pills, what I saw looming ahead of me was a return of crazy bleeding and acne flare-ups. NOT appealing. I told my mom I had to go back on them, but she wasn't convinced. So off we went to gynecologist #2.
Gynecologist #2 was a very educated man, and after a brief physical exam (NO PAP), he took me to his office, and drew me pictures of ovaries with lots of tiny cysts on them. I had no idea what he was talking about, and frankly, I didn't care. I just sat there politely pretending to listen, waiting for him to hand over the prescription for my happy pills. Which of course, he did. This time with instructions to stay on for one year.
By the end of my sophomore year, I had fallen deeply in love with a guy I had met on my first day and told my friends back home he was the one I would marry. And to my surprise, by the end of my sophomore year, he had fallen in love with me, too. We had dated briefly right before he went to study abroad (he was a year older), and now he had just come back and we were back together and very serious.
You can surely see where this is going.
About two months into a "very serious" relationship with the man I was convinced I would marry, I somehow went from virgin to... well, not. I say somehow because it wasn't at all planned or necessarily talked about and decided. We had been physical already; such is the nature of college life, and I was no stranger to "hooking up," but at the same time was very proud that I had not given away my virginity to just anybody. I knew that I believed in the teachings of my Church. I knew that what I was doing was wrong. But in my mind, I rationalized that sex was reserved for marriage because you are only meant to do that with the man you are married to. I really didn't understand the complete beauty of sex at that point, but I was about to begin my education.
I remember that night vividly. Or maybe I should say that memories from that night continue to haunt me. I distinctly remember that we were very close to going that far, but still not quite there, when he suddenly jumped up and ran to his desk. I asked him what he was doing, and he said "Getting a condom... just... in case..." For some stupid reason, I assumed he meant "in case" HE went too far and we were at risk for pregnancy. (I may have been stupid about the pill, but I did know about contact pregnancy.) I told him "It's ok, I'm on the pill." To which he responded, "Oh... well... are you sure?" (This guy was not really known for his ability to articulate and convey an actual message.) And I responded, "Yeah, I'm sure. It's to regulate my periods, but it still 'works.'"
(I realize now he was basically asking me if I was "sure" that I wanted to have sex with him. So, basically, one of the biggest decisions of my life came down to not a well thought-out weighing of consequences, but rather an ambiguous exchange of "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I'm sure.")
This may seem odd to many of you, but I very clearly remember two things about that experience. The first is that my very first thought was: "Oh no... Mary never did this... I'm no longer like Mary." (Crazy the things that run through my head, but it's true.) The second is that the entire time, I washed away feelings of guilt with the overwhelming feeling that kept sweeping over me - a feeling of "THIS is so RIGHT! THIS is how it's SUPPOSED to be!" That feeling of coming together in union with another human being completely and totally, with no barriers (at least not in my mind) was absolutely intoxicating to me... the way it IS supposed to be, just not at all how I had warped it.
And so, ignoring the underlying guilt I continued to feel every once and a while, we continued being intimate. Over Fall Break, my prescription for the pill was up, and this time I was adament about staying on it. I threw a fit when my mother suggested I stop taking it for a while and see if my cycles normalized... because now, I actually needed that pill for contraception. But at the same time, both of us were not satisfied with the fact that no one had any answers for me about my health. WHY was I bleeding like this? WHY were my periods so irregular to begin with?? So we agreed to go together to Gyn/Midwife #3, recommended to us by my older sister. I was absolutely convinced that whether she gave us answers or not, I would be able to get more happy pills from her.
Gyn/Midwife #3 took me in her office first, alone. There she asked if I was sexually active, and I reponded truthfully that I was. She explained that she wanted to run a couple of tests on me, some bloodwork and an ultrasound, to find the issues that were causing my weird cycles. So we made a follow-up appointment for the following day for the ultrasound. On our way out of the office, I remember the ultrasound tech asking me, at the front desk where me and my mother were checking out, if I was a virgin. Of course being in front of my mother I said, "Yes," and she got a look of concern on her face and said, "Oh, wait a second, we can't do this type of ultrasound that was ordered... hold on, let me go tell the Dr." My face must have turned beet red. The tech came back, made minimal eye contact while she quickly said, "OK, it'll be fine, just come tomorrow as scheduled."
After the ultrasound and bloodwork, the Midwife took me back into her office and explained Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome - my diagnosis. I finally had an answer for all these years of crazy cycles! She was pretty detailed in her description, and finally, told me the solution was: (I know you've guessed it) The Pill. I was to stay on the pill up until the time I decided I was ready to have children. (I was 20 years old at the time.) Now this next part I rememer verbatum. I asked her: "Will being on the pill that long have any adverse effects on my ability to become pregnant when I want to?" (See, I was worried about my fertility even back then.) Her answer: "Oh, no, on the contrary- being on the pill tricks your body into thinking it's pregnant every month, so when you want to become pregnant and come off the pill, it should be very easy!"
I was sold. This stuff was the best thing on planet earth.
Back to school I went, and me and my boyfriend continued our physical relationhip up until I was about to study abroad for a semester. Soon before I left, we discussed our plans for the future, and he said he wanted to take a break. A break?? I. FREAKED. OUT. What did he mean a BREAK?? We were going to get married, what in the world did he need a BREAK for?!?! Didn't he realize what I had given to him??!! Inevitably, because I was not very agreeable when it came to the "break," we ended up breaking it off for good, instead. I was completely devastated. It was one of the lowest points of my life. It was as if I had just lost my husband, because, in a way, I had. I say that because I had given myself to him physically, in a way that I had always intended (and God had always intended) for me to give myself ONLY to my husband. I thought that if not in word, we were at least "physically married." But now what were we? What would we ever be? And what would be always be?? Everything was, in an instant, completely upside-down and backwards. What I didn't realize is that it had already started out backwards.
So then I left for Italy, and while on the plane from NYC to Venice, I sat right next to a very attractive guy with whom I would wind up spending the rest of my life. We hit it off immediately, exchanged phone numbers, and began talking on the phone frequently, in Italy. Eventually, he invited me to his roommate's birthday party, and we officially began dating.
Now, in my mind, when I began dating my DH, it was to be an Italian "fling" to help me get my ex out of my system. I still had a very unhealthy attachment to my ex that I just couldn't shake... and now looking back it makes perfect sense why I felt that way. Because sex, as beautiful and life-giving as it is, is only MEANT to be shared with one person, one spouse, one partner for life... and suddenly it no longer was that in my life.
I was determined to do something to release the hold my ex still had on me, across an ocean, over thousands of miles. (And the fact that he continued to email me things like "I miss you" and "Someone on the other side of the ocean is thinking about you" didn't quite help.)
Surely you see where this is going...
Way too soon, and way too impetuously, I slept with my new boyfriend (and present husband). And it worked... almost. I felt a physical detachment from my ex right after that, but I was still very much in love with him. And this poor new guy I was dating, well, he was just the catalyst to help me heal what couldn't really be healed.
I started to notice that my new boyfriend was quickly falling in love with me, but I did not, could not reciprocate the feelings. I didn't know what was wrong with me - hadn't I always told myself I would only sleep with ONE man, and now here I was sleeping with someone I didn't even love?? What a fast and furious downward spiral my life had taken, and I hadn't even had time to sit back and reflect on it.
Flashforward a couple years or so, when both of us were back in the States, still dating (long-distance), still sleeping together. At a certain point my birth control pill prescription expired, so off I went to another Dr. I was never worried that I wouldn't be able to get it re-filled, in fact, the thought never crossed my mind. I pretty much just had to ask for it and it was mine. No exam, no bloodwork, no other tests. So when one day the pharmacy charged me full price for them when my insurance didn't cover it, I was up in arms. "What??? What do you mean, I've ALWAYS had it covered!!" The pharmacist didn't know what to tell me, but finally asked, "Do you work for a Catholic organization?" "Yeah." (I had just started working as a Kindergarten teacher in a Catholic school.) "Oh, that explains it. They don't cover birth control." I was livid. "But this is for a medical purpose, I'm not on it for birth control," I practically yelled at the poor girl. Her hands were tied.
I refused to pay the full price for months on end, so I got one more month's worth and prayed for the best. Over the past 3 years, there had been several months in between prescription re-fills when I didn't take the pill, and R (now-DH) and I just used condoms. But I HATED condoms. Absolutely loathed them. I felt like there was a foreign "thing" in my body that did not belong there and was not supposed to be there, and it made me physically sick. I think about my reactions back then and see that I had the truth all along - I knew in my heart what human sexuality was all about, what sex was intended to be... but my being on the pill blurred that crystal clear vision to the point where I could now only see 3 feet in front of my face and not the whole picture. There was a time when I never would have thought of using a barrier method. Now it was just a necessary Plan B.
A month later, R and I were engaged. My plan had been to become celibate once we were engaged and wait until marriage to resume our sex life. (See what I mean? Warped indeed.) So, we did. R was at that point a very different man than the one I first started dating in Italy - he was matured, he had grown in his Catholic faith, and he welcomed my wishes to wait with open arms. And most importantly, he was a man I now loved.
When we got married and became intimate again, nothing was new, nothing was exciting. In fact, I remember for the first 6 months or longer feeling guilt every time we had sex. It was a feeling I just couldn't shake - why NOW did I have this overwhelming guilt? Why THEN did I feel the feeling of "This is how it's supposed to be!" and not now? Our marriage, while legitimate in the eyes of God, began on a rocky slope, and it felt like we had to constantly struggle to stay on our feet, specifically in regards to our sexuality. I felt like the bonding element of sex was not bonding us at all, and instead almost became a hurdle to our union.
And then came infertility. The biggest hurdle to our sex-life.
I don't think any woman (or man for that matter) could say that infertility didn't have some negative effects on their sex life. But in our case, it added a curveball to an already disrupted foundation. Over the past 5 years, we have worked through most of these issues, but I always wonder how much easier it would have been, and could have been, if I had made different decisions.
Being on the pill wreaked havoc for 6 years on my reproductive system. Syndromes and diseases like PCOS and endometriosis were exacerbated over those 6 years, and the pill masked them over to give me the illusion of normalcy and perfect health. But the worst thing the pill did to me was wreak havoc on my sexuality. From the moment I got my first prescription, I knew I was safe "just in case," and almost overnight my plans and goals shifted from long-term whole person wellbeing to short-term physical and emotional satisfaction.
I can't change my past, though often I wish I could. All I can hope is that God continues to heal my soul and my marriage. And praise Him, every day I see it happening more and more.
And that's my story.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Baptisms are Awesome
My heart is still swollen from this weekend.
I am so honored to have not one, but TWO very special goddaughters whom I love with all my heart.
Welcome to the Church, Hannah Grace!!
And, of course I can't forget my very talented, almost-14 year old goddaughter and niece, M:
(Don't mind my sister's face... she takes after my father.)
I'm the luckiest, proudest godmama :)
I am so honored to have not one, but TWO very special goddaughters whom I love with all my heart.
Welcome to the Church, Hannah Grace!!
And, of course I can't forget my very talented, almost-14 year old goddaughter and niece, M:
(Don't mind my sister's face... she takes after my father.)
I'm the luckiest, proudest godmama :)
Thursday, March 17, 2011
St. Uzi's Day
Today will always mean something much more to me than wearing green and eating corned beef and cabbage.
One year ago today was the most difficult day in both my and my husband's life. Yes, the loss of our dear Uzi (see picture on top of blog) beats out everything else that happened before and after that, including DH's arrest, our rejected Home Study, the day he missed my surgery and then missed the vacation he so badly needed, etc. etc.
I can't even describe for you all what that dog meant, and continues to mean, to me. While DH and I were dating, we went through a very very difficult cross, more difficult than IF in many ways, and Uzi helped us through it. He was like a much cooler Lassie. He was our joy in times of sadness. He wasn't "just" a pet. He was our son.
I am so very humbled that of all families to be blessed with the world's greatest friend, we were that family. I cannot wait to see him again.
We miss you terribly, Uzi. Life is not the same without you.
One year ago today was the most difficult day in both my and my husband's life. Yes, the loss of our dear Uzi (see picture on top of blog) beats out everything else that happened before and after that, including DH's arrest, our rejected Home Study, the day he missed my surgery and then missed the vacation he so badly needed, etc. etc.
I can't even describe for you all what that dog meant, and continues to mean, to me. While DH and I were dating, we went through a very very difficult cross, more difficult than IF in many ways, and Uzi helped us through it. He was like a much cooler Lassie. He was our joy in times of sadness. He wasn't "just" a pet. He was our son.
I am so very humbled that of all families to be blessed with the world's greatest friend, we were that family. I cannot wait to see him again.
We miss you terribly, Uzi. Life is not the same without you.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Lent Post
Since Lent begins in, oh, an hour or so, I figured it was time to get these thoughts down on "paper."
As I was meditating on the Sorrowful Mysteries in my car a couple weeks ago, it struck me suddenly how each mystery was very similar to a portion of the infertility journey. Now, I say this as a way of helping those of us who have walked/are walking the infertility journey become closer to Christ in His suffering, but in no way mean to imply that the suffering of infertility comes anywhere close to the suffering Jesus endured during His Passion. Just wanted to make that clear upfront :)
But, if you think about it, it really is a beautiful thing to be able to align your suffering with Jesus, and be able to relate on an even deeper level to what He is going through. For many years, I've heard my mother, my grandmother, and my sister talk about how their relationship with Mary grew so much stronger when they became mothers - that they could relate to HER suffering on a level they couldn't have before they knew the bond of mother and child. I can't describe how that comment pains me to my core... to think I don't know, CAN'T know, MY MOTHER in the same way that mothers in general do... ouch. Yet, with this new realization of the parallels between infertility and the Sorrowful Mysteries, I think that women with infertility can relate to Jesus on a new level, and maybe on a level that those who have not gone through infertility cannot. Maybe.
Here are the parallels I've noted:
The First Sorrowful Mystery-
The Agony In The Garden
Before we go to Dr's appointments, get testing, go through a treatment, go in for surgery, start a new diet, etc., we have a level of anxiety similar to that which Jesus felt in the Garden that fateful evening before His crucifixion. We don't know what to expect, but we know more often than not, it's not going to be easy, it will require MUCH stamina, and while the desired results are completely worth it, we can't know for sure we'll actually get there. In fact, all we CAN do is pray that God's will be done, and this we pray again and again, in the attempts to melt away the fear of the unknown. These are examples of the "agony" we go through fairly frequently on our infertility journey, but then there is also the more general BEGINNING to our journey of suffering, like the Agony in the Garden was the beginning of Jesus' Passion.
When we first come to the realization, whenever it may be, that we. are. infertile. We're not just stricken with horribly bad luck in timing of lovemaking, and we're no longer in denial that maybe we just have to "relax." It hits home - we have a (or several) medical diagnoses which need to be addressed: what will our future be like? Will we be open to certain treatments, and if we aren't, will it take much longer? How long WILL it take? Will we EVER have children? Do we need to get a new or a different job to either stay busy and/or help pay for treatments and medications that may cost thousands of dollars? Will the treatments we go through hurt us physically? Will the emotional pain we're beginning to feel now last continuously, or, dare we wonder, get even worse with time?
Agony indeed.
The Second Sorrowful Mystery
The Scourging At The Pillar
Jesus was severely beaten, almost to death, hours before he was Crucified. Clearly this was very physically painful, but I also personally believe that this was the beginning of His death - LIFE was beaten from him, and after He was scourged, He had less energy, less strength, less life inside of Him.
Through infertility, there are numerous occasions where we are beaten and bruised, both physically and emotionally. Some, no actually, all of the most painful things I've endured in my lifetime came because of infertility. Tests/treatments like the endometrial biopsy, the HSG, the ovarian wedge resection recovery, the "cervical scraping," the uterine washes, the botched midline catheter IV placement, were just a few of the physical experiences I would love to forget. And some of the most hurtful things that have ever been said to me were only hurtful because of my infertility (whether the person meant to be hurtful or not). We have scars from these wounds which are repeatedly opened with each new cycle, just as Jesus had scars to bear from His violent beating. With with each fresh new wound and each re-opening of old wounds, a little bit more life is taken from us.
The Third Sorrowful Mystery
The Crowing With Thorns
It was at this Mystery that the parallels first dawned on me. When I meditate on this Mystery, the biggest insults that come to my mind are the MOCKERY and the HUMILIATION of Jesus when the soldiers crowned Him with thorns and placed a robe around his shoulders. It is often too much for me to bear, and I usually have to switch from reciting the decade aloud to reciting it in my head at this point. Jesus, Our Lord and Savior, being degraded in such a way... and then paraded about in front of the crowd for all to see.
To me, this is VERY similar to the feelings infertility can evoke. Often, I feel mocked and misunderstood in many different ways- for example, how many Lifetime movies portray "infertile" women as baby-crazed murdering kidnappers who will stop at nothing to rock a baby in their arms and call it "their own." It's not just the media - many people in real life who have not been personally touched by infertility (and I mean either themselves or a loved one) really don't see the "big deal," and mock and minimize our pain, which is, again, unlike other sufferings, a CYCLICAL pain. We are mocked silently every time we see a happy mother walking with a stroller, every time a large family sits in the row in front of us at church, every time a drug addict on the streets becomes pregnant AGAIN, every time an older Mom jokes about what they would do "if they got pregnant again," every time a mother walks into an abortion mill. And along with the mockery comes the humiliation. We are humiliated to have to admit, for the 5th time that week, that, NO, we don't have kids, YES, we do want them... and then basically needing to spell out for the not-so-bright that we're as barren as a brick, wondering in the end if it would just be easier and less humiliating to have our husbands wear a "I'm With Barren" t-shirt wherever we go. We are humiliated to realize we can no longer count on one hand how many people aside from our husband have seen our lady business on a pretty regular basis, we are humiliated when our Dr or ultrasound tech says things like, "Wow, you have a lot of bowel activity going on in there,"* (*Note: I have never, and will never say this to women when I give them ultrasounds, because I still remember how beet red I turned when my Dr said it to me... but also Note: it is completely normal for ALL women to have "bowel activity" and "gas" in their pelvic region, and it does make it difficult to visualize ovaries, which is why it is often talked about during an ultrasound.), we are humiliated to admit to some of our diagnoses, we are humiliated to be given very personal, unwelcome advice by people we just met, we are humiliated to be amongst a group of parents and be "outted" as the only one/s who are childless,... the list goes on and on.
The Fourth Sorrowful Mystery
The Carrying Of The Cross
Clearly I've made a point on this blog to show that my journey through infertility has been a cross not only to carry, but to embrace. And really the entire journey can be viewed as the cross, as we carry it daily, but I think there are more specific parallels between facets of infertility and Jesus' actual carrying of His cross.
I believe we carry our cross when we acknowledge it - whether that be a public acknowledgement or an acknowledgement to ourselves. When we recognize that we have limitations, and that when our period arrives, we need to preserve ourselves and our friends by perhaps NOT attending that baby shower or that birthday party - we are carrying our cross of infertility. When we make choices to join that book club we always wanted to join, start a support group for others, plan a much-needed vacation to reconnect with our spouse, ask for prayers from our friends and family - through all of these examples we are carrying the cross of infertility. We carry our cross despite falling once, twice, several times. We carry our cross despite having been beaten and mocked and humiliated. We carry our cross knowing that as heavy as it is, our salvation is found within it. And when we discover this, we may even embrace the cross as we carry it still further.
The Fifth Sorrowful Mystery
The Crucifixion and Death
At a certain point, we can't avoid it, we will be nailed to this cross of infertility. The suffering will be intensified as we come to understand that, like Jesus, we will need to "die" to self, but also when we see that our hope of conquering infertility is NOT what God plans for OUR Resurrection. Now many women do become pregnant after having gone through infertility, and many women adopt, but while these are certainly blessings to praise God for, they are not the end-result of our Dying upon our Cross of Infertility. When we get to the point of Dying on our cross, we need to truly accept that God knows what is best for us, that HE WILL PROVIDE WHAT WE NEED, and that our hope and joy comes from Him alone and our desire to one day be with Him in heaven. And suddenly, dying on our cross is not as scary as it once seemed.
As I was meditating on the Sorrowful Mysteries in my car a couple weeks ago, it struck me suddenly how each mystery was very similar to a portion of the infertility journey. Now, I say this as a way of helping those of us who have walked/are walking the infertility journey become closer to Christ in His suffering, but in no way mean to imply that the suffering of infertility comes anywhere close to the suffering Jesus endured during His Passion. Just wanted to make that clear upfront :)
But, if you think about it, it really is a beautiful thing to be able to align your suffering with Jesus, and be able to relate on an even deeper level to what He is going through. For many years, I've heard my mother, my grandmother, and my sister talk about how their relationship with Mary grew so much stronger when they became mothers - that they could relate to HER suffering on a level they couldn't have before they knew the bond of mother and child. I can't describe how that comment pains me to my core... to think I don't know, CAN'T know, MY MOTHER in the same way that mothers in general do... ouch. Yet, with this new realization of the parallels between infertility and the Sorrowful Mysteries, I think that women with infertility can relate to Jesus on a new level, and maybe on a level that those who have not gone through infertility cannot. Maybe.
Here are the parallels I've noted:
The First Sorrowful Mystery-
The Agony In The Garden
Before we go to Dr's appointments, get testing, go through a treatment, go in for surgery, start a new diet, etc., we have a level of anxiety similar to that which Jesus felt in the Garden that fateful evening before His crucifixion. We don't know what to expect, but we know more often than not, it's not going to be easy, it will require MUCH stamina, and while the desired results are completely worth it, we can't know for sure we'll actually get there. In fact, all we CAN do is pray that God's will be done, and this we pray again and again, in the attempts to melt away the fear of the unknown. These are examples of the "agony" we go through fairly frequently on our infertility journey, but then there is also the more general BEGINNING to our journey of suffering, like the Agony in the Garden was the beginning of Jesus' Passion.
When we first come to the realization, whenever it may be, that we. are. infertile. We're not just stricken with horribly bad luck in timing of lovemaking, and we're no longer in denial that maybe we just have to "relax." It hits home - we have a (or several) medical diagnoses which need to be addressed: what will our future be like? Will we be open to certain treatments, and if we aren't, will it take much longer? How long WILL it take? Will we EVER have children? Do we need to get a new or a different job to either stay busy and/or help pay for treatments and medications that may cost thousands of dollars? Will the treatments we go through hurt us physically? Will the emotional pain we're beginning to feel now last continuously, or, dare we wonder, get even worse with time?
Agony indeed.
The Second Sorrowful Mystery
The Scourging At The Pillar
Jesus was severely beaten, almost to death, hours before he was Crucified. Clearly this was very physically painful, but I also personally believe that this was the beginning of His death - LIFE was beaten from him, and after He was scourged, He had less energy, less strength, less life inside of Him.
Through infertility, there are numerous occasions where we are beaten and bruised, both physically and emotionally. Some, no actually, all of the most painful things I've endured in my lifetime came because of infertility. Tests/treatments like the endometrial biopsy, the HSG, the ovarian wedge resection recovery, the "cervical scraping," the uterine washes, the botched midline catheter IV placement, were just a few of the physical experiences I would love to forget. And some of the most hurtful things that have ever been said to me were only hurtful because of my infertility (whether the person meant to be hurtful or not). We have scars from these wounds which are repeatedly opened with each new cycle, just as Jesus had scars to bear from His violent beating. With with each fresh new wound and each re-opening of old wounds, a little bit more life is taken from us.
The Third Sorrowful Mystery
The Crowing With Thorns
It was at this Mystery that the parallels first dawned on me. When I meditate on this Mystery, the biggest insults that come to my mind are the MOCKERY and the HUMILIATION of Jesus when the soldiers crowned Him with thorns and placed a robe around his shoulders. It is often too much for me to bear, and I usually have to switch from reciting the decade aloud to reciting it in my head at this point. Jesus, Our Lord and Savior, being degraded in such a way... and then paraded about in front of the crowd for all to see.
To me, this is VERY similar to the feelings infertility can evoke. Often, I feel mocked and misunderstood in many different ways- for example, how many Lifetime movies portray "infertile" women as baby-crazed murdering kidnappers who will stop at nothing to rock a baby in their arms and call it "their own." It's not just the media - many people in real life who have not been personally touched by infertility (and I mean either themselves or a loved one) really don't see the "big deal," and mock and minimize our pain, which is, again, unlike other sufferings, a CYCLICAL pain. We are mocked silently every time we see a happy mother walking with a stroller, every time a large family sits in the row in front of us at church, every time a drug addict on the streets becomes pregnant AGAIN, every time an older Mom jokes about what they would do "if they got pregnant again," every time a mother walks into an abortion mill. And along with the mockery comes the humiliation. We are humiliated to have to admit, for the 5th time that week, that, NO, we don't have kids, YES, we do want them... and then basically needing to spell out for the not-so-bright that we're as barren as a brick, wondering in the end if it would just be easier and less humiliating to have our husbands wear a "I'm With Barren" t-shirt wherever we go. We are humiliated to realize we can no longer count on one hand how many people aside from our husband have seen our lady business on a pretty regular basis, we are humiliated when our Dr or ultrasound tech says things like, "Wow, you have a lot of bowel activity going on in there,"* (*Note: I have never, and will never say this to women when I give them ultrasounds, because I still remember how beet red I turned when my Dr said it to me... but also Note: it is completely normal for ALL women to have "bowel activity" and "gas" in their pelvic region, and it does make it difficult to visualize ovaries, which is why it is often talked about during an ultrasound.), we are humiliated to admit to some of our diagnoses, we are humiliated to be given very personal, unwelcome advice by people we just met, we are humiliated to be amongst a group of parents and be "outted" as the only one/s who are childless,... the list goes on and on.
The Fourth Sorrowful Mystery
The Carrying Of The Cross
Clearly I've made a point on this blog to show that my journey through infertility has been a cross not only to carry, but to embrace. And really the entire journey can be viewed as the cross, as we carry it daily, but I think there are more specific parallels between facets of infertility and Jesus' actual carrying of His cross.
I believe we carry our cross when we acknowledge it - whether that be a public acknowledgement or an acknowledgement to ourselves. When we recognize that we have limitations, and that when our period arrives, we need to preserve ourselves and our friends by perhaps NOT attending that baby shower or that birthday party - we are carrying our cross of infertility. When we make choices to join that book club we always wanted to join, start a support group for others, plan a much-needed vacation to reconnect with our spouse, ask for prayers from our friends and family - through all of these examples we are carrying the cross of infertility. We carry our cross despite falling once, twice, several times. We carry our cross despite having been beaten and mocked and humiliated. We carry our cross knowing that as heavy as it is, our salvation is found within it. And when we discover this, we may even embrace the cross as we carry it still further.
The Fifth Sorrowful Mystery
The Crucifixion and Death
At a certain point, we can't avoid it, we will be nailed to this cross of infertility. The suffering will be intensified as we come to understand that, like Jesus, we will need to "die" to self, but also when we see that our hope of conquering infertility is NOT what God plans for OUR Resurrection. Now many women do become pregnant after having gone through infertility, and many women adopt, but while these are certainly blessings to praise God for, they are not the end-result of our Dying upon our Cross of Infertility. When we get to the point of Dying on our cross, we need to truly accept that God knows what is best for us, that HE WILL PROVIDE WHAT WE NEED, and that our hope and joy comes from Him alone and our desire to one day be with Him in heaven. And suddenly, dying on our cross is not as scary as it once seemed.
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Power of the Rosary
It's been over 3 weeks since I implemented my daily rosaries, and while I haven't been praying for any specific intention (I enjoy just meditating on the mysteries, which I FINALLY memorized, and reciting the prayers aloud), it is probably no coincidence that the graces have been flowing like honey in my life recently.
First, I began my new job with the new NaPro Center. There are so many wonderful developments taking place as the Center grows (exponentially and quickly!) and I am just so honored to be a part of it during this exciting time! And I also discovered that I am going to be in even more demand once the actual building is ready (we are practicing at the hospital right now, but will soon have our own, independently-owned building, hopefully by May). At that time, I will be asked to come on full-time very likely, and work in ultrasound AND as a Practitioner. My mind is spinning - - it seems like such a short time ago I was laid off from my teaching aide position, feeling so low on myself, and deciding to make NaPro my "career." It was a pipe dream, because I knew I could never actually rely upon NaPro/FertilityCare to be a full-time, family-supporting career... but now it's actually happening!!
But that's not all.
After work last night, I went to my "homebase" NaPro Center to do an ultrasound on a patient, and afterwards spoke with my NaPro Dr about these new, amazing developments with the new center. She had exciting news of her own to share with me - which I am not at liberty to speak about yet, but trust me when I say it's HUGE and fantastic, and New Jersey is going to be THE NaPro State!!! And to think, these are both happening at the same time, and I am a part of both!!
But that's not all.
You may have remembered me talking about my husband's job as Partner with his father in a General Contracting company. Well, I also bumped into my NaPro Dr's husband last night, who is also in G.C., and he asked me for my husband's contact information because he needs to build a pre-engineered metal building (DH's specialty). DH and I have been praying hard for work for him, and it has been a LOOOOONG, hard Fall and Winter with virtually no work. The fact that this is all happening now is just crazy!
Coincidence? Or is our luck beginning to change?
Next Tuesday and Wednesday I will be traveling to Washington, DC for my ultrasound school, as a representative for "Students of Academic Choice." I was asked to go (and I will be payed all travel expenses as well as lost income for two days of work) because I am one of the few recent grads from my program who has secured employment quickly. DH is coming, and we're very much looking forward to Ash Wednesday Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. I once received a beautiful Mass card from that shrine (last July, in the midst of much suffering) from an amazing blogger ;)
If anyone is in the area on Tuesday or Wednesday and wants to meet up, let me know! I cannot WAIT to meet Shannon, FINALLY!! :)
God, I am not worthy of all the gifts you've bestowed on me and my husband lately, but I am so very thankful for the break from suffering, even if only for a little while. Praise God!
First, I began my new job with the new NaPro Center. There are so many wonderful developments taking place as the Center grows (exponentially and quickly!) and I am just so honored to be a part of it during this exciting time! And I also discovered that I am going to be in even more demand once the actual building is ready (we are practicing at the hospital right now, but will soon have our own, independently-owned building, hopefully by May). At that time, I will be asked to come on full-time very likely, and work in ultrasound AND as a Practitioner. My mind is spinning - - it seems like such a short time ago I was laid off from my teaching aide position, feeling so low on myself, and deciding to make NaPro my "career." It was a pipe dream, because I knew I could never actually rely upon NaPro/FertilityCare to be a full-time, family-supporting career... but now it's actually happening!!
But that's not all.
After work last night, I went to my "homebase" NaPro Center to do an ultrasound on a patient, and afterwards spoke with my NaPro Dr about these new, amazing developments with the new center. She had exciting news of her own to share with me - which I am not at liberty to speak about yet, but trust me when I say it's HUGE and fantastic, and New Jersey is going to be THE NaPro State!!! And to think, these are both happening at the same time, and I am a part of both!!
But that's not all.
You may have remembered me talking about my husband's job as Partner with his father in a General Contracting company. Well, I also bumped into my NaPro Dr's husband last night, who is also in G.C., and he asked me for my husband's contact information because he needs to build a pre-engineered metal building (DH's specialty). DH and I have been praying hard for work for him, and it has been a LOOOOONG, hard Fall and Winter with virtually no work. The fact that this is all happening now is just crazy!
Coincidence? Or is our luck beginning to change?
Next Tuesday and Wednesday I will be traveling to Washington, DC for my ultrasound school, as a representative for "Students of Academic Choice." I was asked to go (and I will be payed all travel expenses as well as lost income for two days of work) because I am one of the few recent grads from my program who has secured employment quickly. DH is coming, and we're very much looking forward to Ash Wednesday Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. I once received a beautiful Mass card from that shrine (last July, in the midst of much suffering) from an amazing blogger ;)
If anyone is in the area on Tuesday or Wednesday and wants to meet up, let me know! I cannot WAIT to meet Shannon, FINALLY!! :)
God, I am not worthy of all the gifts you've bestowed on me and my husband lately, but I am so very thankful for the break from suffering, even if only for a little while. Praise God!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Spotting
Why do I feel like I'm going backwards??
I've eliminated all casein (protein in milk) and all gluten as of early February, so it's officially been one month on this new diet (which is also low glycemic-index, and high protein)... and this cycle has SUCKED. There, I said it.
Not only did my TEBB (tail-end brown bleeding, at the end of my period) come back with a vengeance, but it never went away!! I did ultrasounds on myself (c'mon, you know you would, too, if you were in my shoes), and I ovulated early since I took a low dose of Femara. I took 4 Femara pills (2.5mgs each) on cycle day 2, because I wanted to force my right ovary into working again. The last time when I thought I saw a follicle on my right side, it didn't end up developing, and the left side took over that cycle. But THIS time, the right side made a nice, big, juicy follicle that got to 2.3cm (or slightly bigger) before rupturing. It also had a nice and obvious cumulus oopherus (evidence of an egg). But, all the while, I was spotting. Right around rupture, the brown turned to red for two days - and each day it was very, very light... then after rupture it went back to brown.
At P+3, I started my compounded progesterone, thinking for sure that would get rid of it... and it did, in the mornings. But by the afternoon, the brown is back again.
WHAT THE SHIT?!?!?!?!
I am so upset by this... all of the FertilityCare conferences I have attended in the past 3 years have shown charts of women who implemented major diet changes, and their charts went from confusing as all heck to GORGEOUS, TEXTBOOK cycles (which inevitably wound up to be fertile as they soon got pregnant). I implement major diet changes, and my body rebels?? Does it miss bread and cheese that much??
I'm so over it. All this drama from my body.
In other, better news, I started my new job with the new NaPro Center this week, but unfortunately there has not been much for me to do yet since they are still waiting for their actual office space to open. There is an ultrasound machine, and I could technically start scanning, but there are a bunch of "logistics" to the patient registration, etc. that have to be combed out before I do that. I am truly excited about this center, though, and I think it will have great success :) I'm so honored to be a part of it!
And for those of you wondering, I have kept my promise to Gloria, and I've said a rosary every single day, and plan to continue through Lent. It works out well on my ride in to work in the mornings (thanks for the tip, alliemich!)
And to end things on a TOTALLY different note, my DH and I are looking into restoring the old Chickering piano we had "thrown in" to the house deal. We sent the restoration place pictures of it before we bought the house, and they dated it at 1895! At the time, we thought our house was built in 1900, so that pre-dated our house! (We've since discovered that our house was actually built in 1873 - HOW COOL!!! We found this out because our neighbors have a twin Victorian that was built at exactly the same time, and they threw a "Welcome to the Neighborhood Party" for us, and told us then that our houses were actually built in 1873!)
So, now that we are in the house, I was able to find the serial number and email it to the restoration place - at first he told me that wasn't the serial number, and to look again, but when I emailed him pictures of where I found it (it's quite obviously the serial number), he was confused. He said that serial number dated my piano at...
1835!!!!...
BUT, that he "knew for sure" it was NOT built in 1835. Apparently, they did not make upright pianos of that height back then (ours is 4 feet high).
So, now I'm wondering if our piano was specially-commissioned for someone of importance... hmmm... (probably not, but a woman can dream!) I guess I'll find out for sure when they take it in to restore it.
I have a really great post in my head that I'm saving for Lent. Sorry for the boring one today :)
I've eliminated all casein (protein in milk) and all gluten as of early February, so it's officially been one month on this new diet (which is also low glycemic-index, and high protein)... and this cycle has SUCKED. There, I said it.
Not only did my TEBB (tail-end brown bleeding, at the end of my period) come back with a vengeance, but it never went away!! I did ultrasounds on myself (c'mon, you know you would, too, if you were in my shoes), and I ovulated early since I took a low dose of Femara. I took 4 Femara pills (2.5mgs each) on cycle day 2, because I wanted to force my right ovary into working again. The last time when I thought I saw a follicle on my right side, it didn't end up developing, and the left side took over that cycle. But THIS time, the right side made a nice, big, juicy follicle that got to 2.3cm (or slightly bigger) before rupturing. It also had a nice and obvious cumulus oopherus (evidence of an egg). But, all the while, I was spotting. Right around rupture, the brown turned to red for two days - and each day it was very, very light... then after rupture it went back to brown.
At P+3, I started my compounded progesterone, thinking for sure that would get rid of it... and it did, in the mornings. But by the afternoon, the brown is back again.
WHAT THE SHIT?!?!?!?!
I am so upset by this... all of the FertilityCare conferences I have attended in the past 3 years have shown charts of women who implemented major diet changes, and their charts went from confusing as all heck to GORGEOUS, TEXTBOOK cycles (which inevitably wound up to be fertile as they soon got pregnant). I implement major diet changes, and my body rebels?? Does it miss bread and cheese that much??
I'm so over it. All this drama from my body.
In other, better news, I started my new job with the new NaPro Center this week, but unfortunately there has not been much for me to do yet since they are still waiting for their actual office space to open. There is an ultrasound machine, and I could technically start scanning, but there are a bunch of "logistics" to the patient registration, etc. that have to be combed out before I do that. I am truly excited about this center, though, and I think it will have great success :) I'm so honored to be a part of it!
And for those of you wondering, I have kept my promise to Gloria, and I've said a rosary every single day, and plan to continue through Lent. It works out well on my ride in to work in the mornings (thanks for the tip, alliemich!)
And to end things on a TOTALLY different note, my DH and I are looking into restoring the old Chickering piano we had "thrown in" to the house deal. We sent the restoration place pictures of it before we bought the house, and they dated it at 1895! At the time, we thought our house was built in 1900, so that pre-dated our house! (We've since discovered that our house was actually built in 1873 - HOW COOL!!! We found this out because our neighbors have a twin Victorian that was built at exactly the same time, and they threw a "Welcome to the Neighborhood Party" for us, and told us then that our houses were actually built in 1873!)
So, now that we are in the house, I was able to find the serial number and email it to the restoration place - at first he told me that wasn't the serial number, and to look again, but when I emailed him pictures of where I found it (it's quite obviously the serial number), he was confused. He said that serial number dated my piano at...
1835!!!!...
BUT, that he "knew for sure" it was NOT built in 1835. Apparently, they did not make upright pianos of that height back then (ours is 4 feet high).
So, now I'm wondering if our piano was specially-commissioned for someone of importance... hmmm... (probably not, but a woman can dream!) I guess I'll find out for sure when they take it in to restore it.
I have a really great post in my head that I'm saving for Lent. Sorry for the boring one today :)
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