Sep 20, 2010

Takin’ it to a “Whole Notha Level”

Every time I hear that phrase I smile. It is a recurrent theme with our pastor, Ed Young at Fellowship Church, and can be applied to nearly all aspects of life. He even has a dog that he rescued named Level, because he brought him to a WNL. And there starts the grinning . . . :-)

After my last surgery I was still having quite a bit of abdominal pain that my general surgeon was blaming on my ovaries. To be honest I didn’t agree with him but decided to get checked out anyway just in case. As I suspected my ovaries were fine and the new OB/GYN I was seeing didn’t seem to believe that the pain was in any way related to my girlie parts. While I was there we discussed how Brent and I have been trying to conceive for well over a year with no success and I was attributing that to my IH. She suggested that we go ahead and do a blood test to check my hormone levels, just to make sure everything was normal.

As with most things in my life these days, of course my hormones were NOT normal. Go figure. She decided to wait a month and re-test to see if it was just an off day or a real problem, so a few weeks ago I went back and submitted some more blood – and then I waited, for an agonizing ten days. Friday afternoon the doctor’s nurse called me and told me that my progesterone levels were better, but still too low, and that the doctor had offered to let me try Clomid to see if we could get the ball rolling. After giving her my pharmacy information I couldn’t contain my excitement so I called to tell Brent the good, albeit bad, news.

Today I am on day three of the treatment and I feel no different – except that I have significantly increased energy. I suppose that’s a great thing though! There are two more days to go this month, and then we cross all of our fingers and toes and pray that it worked. Part of me wants to be ecstatic and jump for joy, but my more reasonable side says to be patient and not get my hopes up. That’s not to say to lose hope entirely; it’s just that when this first started I spent months feeling like a failure because I couldn’t give my husband a child. By the time the new year rolled around I was consumed with my headaches and put baby-making on the back burner. Now it’s front and center again and I fear the letdown.

Infertility is such a taboo subject in our society but it should not be. There are more women suffering from infertility than women who are not, a growing issue in our society that could be blamed on a million things but mostly boils down to our lifestyle. Some women do everything right and their bodies just don’t cooperate despite their best efforts. There are still others who neglect their bodies entirely and “accidentally” get pregnant. Women find it hard to talk about and find someone who relates to their problems and feelings to people they know and I just think that’s sad.

Do I feel ashamed of my infertility? At times, I suppose. It’s never a nice thing to have to admit, “I can’t get pregnant on my own, no matter how hard I try I just can’t make it happen.” It really does make me feel like I’m failing my husband somehow, this is what we were as women were made to do and I can’t do it. But on the same token, I am willing to take the necessary steps to make it happen. I think that many women could benefit from having someone to talk to about it.

For the first time in my life, I’ve felt jealously towards the pregnant – but not all of them. Mostly just against the teens, the young women who’ve whored themselves around and gotten knocked up by practically sneezing and it’s acceptable. I do realize accidents happen, but sheesh. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Surely there is a lesson in there, somewhere.

Now that I’m off my tangent, I really am anxious to see how the Clomid works. So far I haven’t had any of the side effects that I’ve read about which is great – I just hope it doesn’t mean that it’s not working!

Love, KC

Sep 2, 2010

Twenty-Six Candles

Twenty-six years ago today, I was blessed with the most awesome parents and family a gal could ask for. In my unbiased opinion, I feel that I’ve lived a pretty amazing life thus far and there is not much more I could ask for. Being as I was the only child for my parents, it’s obvious that I was spoiled – not so much with “things” as with love, because that’s all they had. Times were tough when I was growing up but I was none the wiser, for I had two extremely dedicated parents along with two wonderful stepparents and a slew of grandparents that made sure I knew how great I was.

To this day, my family still makes me feel special on my birthday. It’s not as big a deal as it is when you turn, say, 13, but it’s still nice to know that your family and friends are thinking of you on your day. When I was younger, my mom used to come and wake me up at 2:51am (that’s what time I was born) and sometimes my grandmother and dad would even call me that early. I cherished it. This morning waking up was different, though, because I didn’t feel any older or that any miraculous changes had occurred overnight. My husband by my side and my son in his room, life is pretty grand. I can’t wait for the mornings when we have a slew of kiddos running around the house, jumping on the bed singing, “Happy birthday, Mama!” while my husband is making me breakfast in bed. (Okay, that last part is a stretch!)

Twenty-five was a really BIG year for me, in a lot of respects. Brent and I officially moved in together. Then we got engaged. Then we celebrated our first Christmas as a family, our first Christmas when LB will likely remember Santa. We got married. My headaches got worse. I was diagnosed with IH. I had major brain surgery, and then two more revisions. We realized we were struggling with infertility. LB had eye surgery again. But throughout all of it we made it, and that is what is most important. We have grown and learned so much during this past year that I can’t help but be anything but grateful for this blessed life I’m living.

Today, I turned twenty-six years old. My great-grandmother had my grandmother at 25; my grandmother had my mom at 25 and my mom had me at 25. For as long as I can remember, I was “supposed” to have my first child at 25, too. Obviously that didn’t happen, and before I met Brent I was okay with that – there was no rush! It’s not until you want to have that child that you feel the rush. I feel like I missed the mark. Like I let down the tradition. In a way, I did “have” LB when I was 25, so I guess that is the balance. There’s always got to be balance, right?

So maybe 26 will be my year. It can only get bigger and better from here. :-) A huge thank you to all of my sweet friends and family who have taken time out of their day today to wish me a happy birthday. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you.

Love, KC
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