Maybe, Maybe Not

I would die for that too

2007-07-11T21:56:00.001-04:00

Immersion

2007-03-08T18:12:00.001-05:00

After last week's loss, I decided I needed to immerse myself in finding out as much as I can about this PCOS stuff I've got. The only way to be my best advocate is to know as much as the doctors, if not more, so that I can ask the tough questions, get the right treatment and get a pregnancy to stick!

So I mosied on over to amazon and ordered up a few books which arrived today.

The first is PCOS and Your Fertility. I grabbed that because, well, right now I'm in the treches about my fertility. I want to conquer this just one more time, for my sake, for TallBoy's, for Bam-Bam. I need to know how each aspect of this disease affects my chances of conceiving (one statistic I caught briefly said that I have a 40% chance of miscarriage in the first three months just because I'm a PCOS-er).

The second book, the Savvy Woman's Guide to PCOS won my heart on the first page. It reads:

"Nothing is obvious to the uninformed" - Salada Tea Bag.

I'm gonna like this book.

The third book, and it's accompanying value guide, grabbed my attention because I've long said that I don't think I could ever live carb-free. As intriguing as the South Beach and Atkins diets are for their rapid weight-loss factor, I know damn well I'd fail miserably. Nevermind the fact that I don't eat ANY vegetables, I can't go without meeting some sugar-fed needs several times a day. It's gotten better with the MetMania but I am a long way from being able to go without. I'm hoping to find a way to balance the need to lose some serious weight and the need to stay more even-keeled with my bloodsugar levels.

I've only had these books in the house a couple of hours but I'm amazed at how much of myself I'm already seeing in them. It could certainly be disappointing that all of this information has been out there and I didn't need to waste the last 10 years without a diagnosis. I could wallow in the misery of what our family could have looked like had we know.

I'm gonna just try to be thankful that we know now. And take comfort in the fact that I have had such little, if any, control over my body for all my life.

It's not me, it's the chemistry I was given.

Dive

2007-02-27T07:52:00.000-05:00

My temp took a dive this morning and I feel more bloated and heavy than I have for a week. I need to stay close to home which isn't a bad thing. I'll get Bam-Bam on the bus, fill the dishwasher, change over laundry then go back to bed.

And wait.

Could my day GET any worse?

2007-02-20T18:20:00.000-05:00

My progesterone is only 4.something. Probably not viable.

And my dog shit on the floor while I was at work. I'm the only one here to clean it up and the whole house smells.

Shock and Awe

2007-02-19T17:13:00.000-05:00

So far, the total tests that had either a second line or a plus sign totals 5. Yes, just 5. I've had some patience this cycle. Patience to wait for the peak at CD 21 (not the usual CD 14 they tell you about in 6th grade sex ed class). Patience to get the first positive on CD 37. Patience with my chart and all the groovy learning I did on how to track each element. I definitely got it right.

Now I have to muster some more patience because since today is President's Day, they wouldn't do my blood draw today. I have to wait until tomorrow morning. Then I have to wait again for the call back.

Praying for big numbers. Big, BIG numbers. Big ol' healthy, celebratory, crying-jag level numbers.

Peaking

2007-02-03T11:12:00.000-05:00

and praying.

Staring

2007-01-22T19:49:00.000-05:00

Staring at the thermometer.

Staring at the CM.

Staring at the CBFM stick.

Staring at the CBFM screen.

Staring at the FF chart.

Staring at the support board.

Staring at the calendar.

Staring at the clock.

The Forgotten

2007-01-08T14:35:00.000-05:00

Back in September as Bam-Bam started kindergarten and I tried to heal from my miscarriage, I stopped being able to sleep, I stopped following my control journal which means the house was a wreck and I felt overly compelled to smoke.

So, instead of grabbing the closest pack of Parliment Lights, I made an appointment with my primary care physician to get medicated. As I sat choking back the tears as best I could, my pcp said something that endeared me to him until the end of time, and I quote:

"I firmly believe that a woman that suffers a miscarriage is among the most forgotten people in our society"

It wasn't until I mentioned the impending not-to-be-seen due date to TallBoy yesterday that he realized why I was not being myself. He kept repeating over and over that it will be ok.

I need to believe him. I need to get past this and BE ok.

Sigh

2007-01-07T18:44:00.000-05:00

My moodiness lately, within my own head although thankfully not directed at anyone around me, borders of pervasive. Besides the 40+ day cycle I'm in that, according to Fertility Friend, was anovulatory, I've also arrived at that point where we'd be holding a baby had we not miscarried in June.

The first time I miscarried back in 1998, I never marked the due date, never had thoughts of what would have or could have been. From the first blood test they were certain that the egg was unviable. This last time, the egg was viable and doing wonderfully amazing things but my placenta was the problem. I struggle now with knowing that had I pushed for the d&c I KNEW I needed prior to having my cycle monitored, we might in fact be holding that little one, or two, right now. Knowing that my HcG levels climbed and climbed as the egg grew and grew only to have lost it anyway to my lack of insistence is disheartening.

Even though my due date was the 19th, they would have induced me early due to my complications with Bam-Bam which means we either would be in the verge of or already cuddling our little one today.

I've decided not to go to Vegas for my business conference in April so that we can put the money into the renewed deductibles and co-pays to give this another shot. I'm scared at the prospect of focusing, hoping, attempting with effort again. Can I count on myself to know when to stop?

Time will tell.

Well, alright, I'm game

2006-10-30T09:22:00.000-05:00

So my last post was the scathing ripping of Metformin. My ass, at that point, had been taken over by the MetAlien and I had been finding it difficult to be further than a few feet from the toilet.

Now, more than a month later and finally up to a full dose, I'm actually hopeful.

Right on schedule on day 28 Friendly Flo arrived. Whoa.

Now, on day 7, I'm holding my breath.....

and hoping.

Definitely NOT

2006-09-27T23:51:00.000-04:00

There's no maybe involved in this decision: The Metformin has to GO!

I started taking it on Monday night. They told me that it would cause me some stomach upset but that was normal. A couple weeks back I also started taking Zoloft and some Ambien at night (that's a whole different issue). Adding the Metformin has been a disaster and a half and, well, I just. can't. do. it.

It's entirely possible that things would settle down after a couple of weeks but I just don't have it in me to stick it out. The first hour after I take it I'm fine. Then, all hell breaks loose. The hour after this morning's dose was fine but once we left the house to go get the boat from camp, I couldn't continue sitting up in the passenger's seat and remained that way for two hours. Tonight has been similar. I can't be down for the count for four hours every day. I just can't.

I know what this means for me, this giving up the medication. I know that it closes another door on our ability to try to conceive.

I'm thankful for the Zoloft.

Plan of Attack

2006-08-15T11:42:00.000-04:00

Yesterday's food intake:
Breakfast - Two cups of coffee with Hazelnut creamer
(trip to town hall which resulted in sugar shakes)
Lunch - Two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a diet coke
Snack - Two frosted cake cookies, with sprinkles, another diet coke
Dinner - Two scoop Oreo ice cream on a sugar cone

First phone call of the day - Jane, the IF nurse.

New plan - Metformin.

Since my diagnosis, I've felt better knowing that my sugar shakes and intake is fueled by something beyond my control and not just weakness or bad choices. As a result, I've also noticed that I can't go very long throughout any given day without some high dose sugar. I'm not crazy about the idea of potentially becoming a full-fledged diabetic in the near or distant future so today I called Jane to talk about how to treat the insulin-resistance part of my condition. She agreed and so when I get my period again I'm going to start the Metformin and see how I feel with that. Keep your fingers crossed. It would be nice to also eliminate the grouchies that come with my wavy blood sugars.

Now, let's hope that I actually GET a period......

In the Thick

2006-07-20T17:17:00.000-04:00

There won't be a Part II of The Road Less Taken because it's all too much to write, so, get over it.

I was chatting on line with DoodlebugMama the other night about this post she recently shared with the world. I've known DBM for almost 6 years now although never met her in "real life". We share a bond that has grown over the 'net through the happenstance that my one child and her third child were both born in the same month of the same year. She knew, somewhat casually, of my journey into motherhood, the details of which were shared with the group sparingly.

Part of the reason for my sparse discussions about my journey was because once I got pregnant, the circumstances surrounding the conception no longer mattered and for the first time in several years, I felt "normal". My pregnancy wasn't any more different than the rest of the ladies I shared the trek with. The normalcy was something I needed more than anything at the time.

The other big reason I didn't talk about it much was because of the fierce controversy that inevitably follows the discussion of assisted reproductive treatments, ART for the veterans. Our kids were close to 4, I'm estimating, before the "big" discussion hit.

As a group we'd been able to debate and discuss lots of topics over the years and I'd been unscathed on a personal level by the topics. I never needed an abortion nor ever had an abortion so I didn't dive into that one (for the record, I believe that no one else should be able to decide, either by law or opinion, whether a woman carries a child to term). I was again untouched when the Terri Schiavo debate raged among the group because I didn't (and still don't) know how I felt about it. And, as much as it made my skin crawl to read that one mom hoped to pray her children back to the way of the bible if they were to ever, God-forbid, announce that they are gay, I stayed clear knowing that I genuinely love my son unconditionally.

But when a Chicago area mom posted a link to a newspaper article that highlighted the stark comparison of treatment by the media between two families of high order multiples (HOM), my panties were definitely in a bunch over the intense negativity expressed by many among us. My feelings had finally been hurt. So much so that I seriously contemplated leaving the group. I managed to calm down enough to realize that these women were a common cross-section of what is reality for the majority of people "out there". The nature of the beast is that our society thrives on the rare and freakish and we fuel the media into showcasing the uncommon all the while squashing the real statistics lest they diminish the hype.

Over at a little pregnant, Julie takes on the moral majority (ok, she takes on Victoria who admittedly, ala repeat comment, spoke out her ass) by highlighting the statistics, the REAL statistics, of conception occurring within the scenario of seven frozen embies. Bravo woman, gettin' all real and stuff. When the brew-haha over the Chicago families unfurled within my little group, I couldn't find the statistics through my tears and so I huffed in a typical infertile tizzy instead. Mature, I know. I'll admit there are still days that I wonder how well received I would have been had all five of our follicles allowed passage of five freaky-deaky sperm and I'd managed to carry and deliver insta-family. The world may never know.

The backstory only shines a small spotlight on where I'm actually at today, fifty days post-dilation and curretage. In the days immediately following my procedure, I realized I hated, yes hated, the balance of sharing and not sharing what was going on. If I didn't share, I was paranoid that the people around me would find out and then I'd be forced to share while also really needing to be comforted. Then, if I did share, people began to fall into a variety of categories of varying levels of annoyance:

The Confused
Standard quote: "I thought you didn't want any more kids?"
Annoyance factor: 4
In-depth analysis: These people believe that if you're not already pregnant once your first child exceeds the age of 2 years 2 months, then you've quite obviously decided against having more children without even asking. Those in this category are so stunned by the mere fact that you were pregnant, especially with a child already 5, they can only assume that you got pregnant accidentally and, as such, aren't that upset that the pregnancy has ended.

The Overly-Concerned
Standard quote: Exact words unknown as questions are usually muttered to husband as you are returning to the table with drinks from the bar but it's fairly safe to assume they sound something like "Are you sure she's really ok? I mean, she says she's ok but I don't think she's really ok. Is she really ok?"
Annoyance factor: 1
In-depth analysis: Because they genuinely love you with all their heart, it's hard to fault the OC's. They undoubtedly know your story and they know how much it hurts yet don't believe you when you say you're ok if you are indeed ok. You want to remind them that there isn't anything that can be done for you anyway, the healing is all on the inside, and that you appreciate their concern but that whispering quietly when your back is turned is also yucky in many yucky ways.

The Avoiders
Standard quote:
Annoyance factor: 7
In-depth analysis: Avoiders climb AF scale because they assume that if they contact you in any way, you'll either break out into uncontrollable tears OR give you the whole play-by-play upto and including your entire fertility journey. It doesn't matter if you've been friends with them since before you even started mentruating, they are afraid, very afraid, paralyzed with fear as it were, and as a result are never heard from again.

The Observants
Standard quote: "You need to be thankful for what you have."
Annoyance factor: 8
In-depth analysis: The implications here should be blaringly obvious but that doesn't seem to squelch the comment. Of course, I'm thankful for what I have. Interestingly, when people have more than one child without the help of ART, this line of thinking is not invoked. You know, when MaryJane announces her second "au natural" pregnancy, she won't have people asking why she wasn't thankful for what she already had. That slant is reserved just for the broken that remain broken.

The Politicos
Standard quote: "Why don't you just adopt?"
Annoyance factor: 8+
In-depth analysis: Poli's truly believe that all infertiles should just adopt other people's children as that would kill two birds with one stone. The concensus "we" would no longer be providing care for the lowly orphans and the minority "they" would have the family they so long for.
Subsequent quote/thoughts: "[slapping hands together] There, isn't everyone happy now? What do you mean adoption costs money? What do you mean children in state care have baggage? What do you mean they have family that stalk you? Sheesh, you infertiles want it all huh? Perfect little life. Sheesh."

But, by far, the most difficult category to deal with in regards to fertility treatments in general and post-miscarriage specifically is:

The Religious
Standard quote: "God has a plan for you, honey, and another baby must not be in it", "If God wanted someone to have a baby, they'd be able to get pregnant on their own"
Annoyance factor: 9+
In-depth analysis: TR's are, without question, the hardest group to contend with and, at times, the most covert. "God's Plan" statements can come from friends you never expected. Their varying degrees of push also make them the hardest to defend against.

Some TR's believe that using the technology out there to conceive a child is equivalent to worshiping anti-Christ. Quite frequently the couples are accused of "playing God" or, better yet, reminded that a child is a "gift from God" implying that the gift is reserved for only the truly worthy.

Not surprisingly, this approach is only targeted at conditions of infertility when a couple is hoping to create a life, never as a negative toward conditions and treatments to sustain life. It is, in the TR's camp, going against God to inject hormones into a woman's abdomen to stimulate her ovaries to mature follicles and treat the condition she's been "God given". Yet when a diabetic injects insulin to counteract the "God given" problem with their liver, the TR's are no where to be found. Apparently God only protests malfuntioning gonads and wants every other organ in our bodies to be working properly at any cost. It is important to note that the same TR's that scream that humans have no right interfering with God's plan to CREATE life were the same ones picketing and screaming to keep humans intervening to continue Terri Schiavo's life when the big debate raged about her too.

The other angle taken with the TR's is the prayer basis: If I pray long enough, hard enough, genuine enough, God will answer my prayers and grant me a child or another child. The implication here is that only prayerful people can conceive. I'm not sure how they explain the Atheists procreation and I'm pretty sure that the preteen moms aren't on their knees praying for a child.

Lest we go too far, I want to say, on record, that I DO believe in God and I DO believe that God must play some part in conception. Couples that conceive easily usually have no idea how delicate a balance is required to get and remain pregnant. If you've been entrenched in treatment even for a minute you know that if anything is off even a smidge, the whole thing could go right out the window. And, no IFer can deny that there are times and cycles that are successful beyond medical explanation. It is at those times that I believe God is strongest at work. But, I also believe that God has had a hand in the research and development of the processes available to me in this day and age that have allowed me to be blessed as a mom of the most beautiful boy ever. Just as AIDS patients rejoice in a once-a-day drug advancement and the cancer patients celebrate drugs that allow them to feel less sick even as they are dying, I too am thankful for IUI, IVF, GIFT, ZIFT, donor eggs, donor sperm, Clomid, injectibles, post-coitals, and the vaginal ultrasound.

In the years of hot topic debates with my 'net friends, regardless of the topic, my personal responses always seemed planted in the same conforting place in my heart. How can I possibly have a passionate opinion about what other people can or can't do without having experienced it myself? I've never met an infertile TR and I tend to question whether they even exist, you know like BigFoot. I think they are as mysterious a creature as the exact biblical quotes saying I can't use ART to begin with. I hate being made to feel like there's some sort of worthiness chart tracking my actions to determine whether I should or should not be allowed to have another child (because, let's face it, if I'm unworthy of another, somebody please come take the one I do have).

How can you possibly know my pain if you haven't lived it yourself? I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. All I'm asking is that before you go spouting off, do some research, seek out someone that is in fact infertile and ask them how they FEEL. And, if you feel like praying, don't pray that I am able to conceive again, pray that you never have to face what I'm facing every day.

I'll Say It Again: I'm Moving!

2006-06-20T08:01:00.000-04:00

I wonder if being a descendent of a Northern Ireland native would get me benefits?

Ever wonder....

2006-06-12T22:02:00.000-04:00

what it was you did that was so incredibly horrible in your other lives that would justify being dealt some huge pieces of crap in this life?

I'm just thinkin'.....

Tall Boy

2006-06-03T16:30:00.000-04:00

Because you are my rock....

Just Might (Make Me Believe)
Sugarland

I got miles of trouble spreadin' far and wide
Bills on the table gettin' higher and higher
They just keep on comin', there aint no end in sight
I'm just holdin' on tight
I got someone who loves me
More than words can say
And I'm thankful for that each and every day
And if I count all my blessings
I get a smile on my face
Still is hard to find faith

(Chorus):
But if you look in my eyes
And tell me we'll be alright
If you promise never to leave
You just might make me believe

It's just day to day, tryin' to make ends meet
What I'd give for an address on Easy Street
I need a deep margarita to help me unwind
Leave my troubles behind

(Chorus)

I used to believe in us
When times got tough
Lately I'm afraid
That even love is not enough

But if you can look in my eyes
And tell me we'll be alright
If you promise never to leave
You just might make
Oh, you just might make me
You just might make me believe

Only for the Rich and Famous

2006-06-02T15:55:00.000-04:00

Well, the tears have finally begun to flow.

NOT because I'm in any physical pain.

NOT because I'm in any emotional pain from this experience.

My pain is financial.

Say what you want about Britney Spears and her lack of parenting ability, her car-seating, her dropping, her husband and her closely-spaced children. She's got the cash which means no one will ever tell her she can't have kids.

See, when you're infertile, the only thing that really matters is how much money you have. You're gonna need it. The drugs cost money. LOTS of money. The office visits every other day cost money. LOTS of money. The lab processing (not the same as the cost to take your blood from your body, that's charged by someone else) costs money. LOTS of money. And the surgery to end the miracle pregnancy you had *almost* accepted would never happen costs money. LOTS of money.

And we have insurance.

Of course, I'm supposed to be thankful that I even have insurance but right now I'm not because I just got off the phone with three different people that want money from me from our ONE MONTH of MIRACLE pregnancy.

I paid $15 each time I walked through the door as a co-pay.
I also paid 10% of the office visit costs.
And 10% of the phlebotomist costs (which DOES NOT include the cost to perform the lab tests remember).
I also paid $400 in deductibles which was applied first to those blood draws mentioned above. It only took FOUR bloodtests to max the deductible. And, that's IN network.
I have yet to be billed for all of my visits and blood draws for the month so my full tally has yet to arrive in my mailbox.

Oh, and did I mention that I had SURGERY yesterday?

Did I mention that the co-pays don't count towards deductibles. Nor do co-pays count toward your maximum annual out of pocket expense. Nor does the $400 dedutible count toward your maximum annual out of pocket expense. The only thing that DOES count toward that is the 10% co-insurance.

In a matter of 60 days, I've most likely accumulated $4000 in out-of-pocket expenses for us.

I have a feeling this journey to have another baby is over, just as my body starts doing most of the work.

Like I said, I'm finally crying.

If anyone mentions adoption, I may just slit my corrodid or jugular or whatever the hell one will end it sooner.....because that's an entirely seperate financial rant.

Feeling Better Today

2006-05-30T21:09:00.000-04:00

I got called in for an ultrasound and bloodwork today. Jane, the IF nurse, thought we should. She called at 10:40 and wanted me there for 11:30. I had a 20 minute drive and wasn't showered but said sure, that's fine.

Got there and the tech took me in immediately and immediately it was clear. I wasn't wrong. I wasn't misinterpreting. The gestational sac that contained the yolk sac that contained the fetal pole and the embryo as recently as Friday was no longer there. Apparently my uterus hasn't gotten the memo yet because it's still hanging on for dear life. Figures. The flippin' thing didn't do what it was supposed to do from the beginning and it continues to run the show and determine how crappy I'm going to feel and when.

After my uterine lining decides to join the party, I'll have to wait until my HCG gets to zero before deciding the next step, the next direction. Who knows when that will be.

I have talked to a few people about what's going on and each one of them expects me to be more upset than I am. They don't know how broken women do it. They are clearly not broken.

Alright, if I'm being real, I'm really NOT upset. How can I be? I have a diagnosis that I've been waiting at least 20 years for. I GOT pregnant and I've been waiting for that to happen on it's own for at least 10 years. I KNEW what I was in for and that's something not a lot of women have the benefit of. Broken women get that. That's the only benefit of being broken: you'll know when your body is going to royally screw it all up.

So really, honestly, I'm ok.

Maybe Not Right Now

2006-05-29T18:54:00.000-04:00

I hadn't returned to write The Road Less Traveled Part Deu because things started changing last Wednesday. Things that scared me and got me anxious and left me hanging. Perilously hanging. And despite the fact that Friday I had an ultrasound that showed the promise of things, early yesterday evening, the end arrived for this little baby.

I'd been avoiding saying that I was "pregnant" or refering to the cells that were multiplying in my uterus as a "baby" as protection. It's what broken women do. Broken women don't get emotional about "cells" and hormone levels. They might get excited about babies but not until it's safe. And, it hadn't been safe.

We weren't home when the end began and had to make a quick exit from the loving company of our friends so as not to be alarming. Broken women don't get alarmed either. Not with anything. Sever my limb and I'll drive myself to the ER. It's part of the broken programming you know.

And even now as the end flows from me and I have to return to clean up, wipe and flush, I will not become attached to the meaning. It never had meaning. There was only the promise of a meaning AND THAT IS NOT THE SAME as real meaning. Real meaning is a heartbeat and movement. It doesn't matter that I'd lost my breakfast less than 12 hours before the end began and saw hope in that. Bottom line is the end arrived and with it the renewal of broken and the return of "what next".

I am not detached from the experience. I completely embrace the magnitude of what had happened 4 weeks ago and I appreciate the miracle of it. But the reality of the result is the same and it's now time to move on to try and gain reality out of what is now lost. Next time things will be different. Next time I will advocate for my supplement and I will at least be able to check THAT off the list. Next time I will not lose a perfectly fine embryo to a shitty progesterone level.

Next time I will be able to become attached.

The Road Less Traveled - Part 1

2006-05-21T12:14:00.000-04:00

Back in the summer of '97 with a brand new nephew and a brand new marriage, Tall Boy and I decided to start trying for a baby. We assumed with my history that it might take a while so we figured getting a jump on things might not be a bad idea.

In all of my pubescent and post-pubescent years, I've had less than a handful of non-medicated menstrual periods. I got my first one at 16 then didn't get another one until exactly one year to the day later. I remember thinking with both of them that I definitely hadn't been missing out on anything. I hated everything about it and was incredibly thankful that it wasn't something I got all the time like my poor unfortunate friends. At the time I had a pretty short fuse and figured I'd be the poorest excuse for a mother, probably an abuser or something of that sort, so not getting my period was a blessing in many different ways. At least that's what my immature brain rationalized in an effort to protect my heart.

After I failed out of college that first semester and started working full time, I went in for my first pap and was put on birth control pills. The theory was then that I was so thin, weighing only 105 pounds at 5 foot 5, my body was conserviing it's energy for the most important functions and had put my reproductive organs on vacation. I took the pill for a couple of years blindly thinking that my problem had been solved.

At some point that I don't recall when or why, I went off the pill and my menstrual absence returned. I remembered why I liked not having her around so much. Let's face it, I've never met a woman that said she couldn't wait for her period to arrive month after month. We rejoice in the ability that only our bodies have for producing children, our specialized gift from God. But, if we're being honest, we'd much rather have the gift without all the non-pregnant periods in between.

I turned 25 and started seeing Tall Boy and after all the necessary bloodtests and disease-free exams, I went back on the pill only to turn into a crazed, monster bitch without any emotional control whatsoever. I cried constantly. I screamed constantly. We fought constantly. I stopped taking them. And my periods went away.

Just over two years pass and we're talking about starting our family. I'm smart enough to know that I need to be having a period to be able to conceive so I called my nurse practitioner and tell her our good news.

"What do we do?" I ask.

"Start by stopping using condoms and call me when you get your next period" she says without really looking at my chart.

"I haven't had a period in over a year" I remind.

"Well alright, I'll call you in a prescription for a drug called Provera, you'll get a period a couple of days after you take the last pill then call me in a month if you don't get your period again."

A plan! A plan that will get us a baby!

I take the pills, we have sex for the first time ever without any protection and we're both a little terrified. Thirty days pass and no period arrives so I call her back.

She tells me to pee on the little stick that makes the little pink lines and if it's negative to call her back and she'll give me the Provera again. There was no cool pink line so I called her back. I took the five little white pills again and we started over. Again.

This time she had me do a blood test on the 21st day of my cycle to see if I ovulated and, to no surprise to me, I hadn't. We wait out the week, take the Provera again and wait for my period.

With that September period, we officially began assisted reproduction methods.

The Great Flo arrived and with it came my first, very small doses of Clomid. I took five little pills again and had unprotected sex again and on day twenty-one of my cycle I had not ovulated again.

The following three months my clomid was increased from 50mg tablets on up to 200mg tablets and the day twenty-one bloodwork was still not indicating ovulation. With the clomid I was at least getting a period making the repeated doses of Provera unnecessary.

Christmas 1997 comes and with it the first major decision: injectibles.

From the Start

2006-05-20T12:18:00.002-04:00

I stood in the shower and as the warm water washed over me, I began to think back on the past 9 years. Nine years of twists and turns. Nine years of ups. Nine years of downs. Three sixties. One eighties.

There's so much to tell that has led up to where I am today. So much that makes today so incredibly miraculous. I'm gonna tell it but I need to start with today.

Today I'm overjoyed at the possibility that this microscopic child growing inside of me might actually make it to the finish line and breath air into it's lungs and life into our lives.

I'm terrified at the possibility of loss because my body isn't creating enough hormones to sustain it and that the loss will be another scar, another reminder that I was born broken and broken I remain.

I'm thankful that after these nine years I have a diagnosis for my condition. I can now say that I have PCOS and not "unexplained infertility". I'm not a freak. I have a syndrome and a fairly common one at that.

I'm angry that it took nine years to finally diagnose me with a fairly common syndrome that is considered one of the easier ones to treat. I'm angry at the lost time, the missed opportunity, the suppression of dreams with each tick of the clock and day that has passed.

I'm nervous that I'm running out of time after all this time. I've crossed that invisible line in the sand where pregnancy and fertility aren't scrutinized under a microscope. I've passed the age of thirty-five which means that even though my body hasn't used it's reproductive organs OR the eggs my ovaries have been storing all this time, I am an increased risk for all kinds things. Things that at thirty-four wouldn't have been mentioned. But I'm beyond thirty-five. Beyond.

Just as with Bam-Bam's conception, things that shouldn't have happened have happened. Things that shouldn't have worked, have worked. At least a little. Now I am left to wonder, to worry, to excite, to dream, to marvel at what might be again. Or might not.