I hate taking a month off from trying to conceive…
As if it’s really a “month off”.
It’s mainly just a half-hearted attempt at getting pregnant the old-fashioned, unmedicated way, which I don’t really believe is going to happen. Because my heart (and logic) (and memory of recent history…) really isn’t in it, we don’t try very hard.
Another thing that I hate is feeling… stuck. Stagnant.
When I can’t move forward to the next medication or the next procedure or the next pee-stick, I start to look backwards.
I’m over-analyzing my “unexplained” diagnosis… I’m trying to get it “explained”.
I’ve had three doctor’s appointments and about twelve tests done in the past week.
I’m going back and forth between being sure I have some kind of infection for which I need broad-spectrum antibiotic therapy, and being suspicious that antibiotics in beef have caused a dangerous yeast overgrowth for which I obviously need treatment.
I’ve cut sugar, caffeine, and alcohol.
I’m seriously considering gluten and dairy, too.
Chemicals in plastic and household cleaners are obviously frying my ovaries, so those must go.
Probiotics or prebiotics? Both? Neither?
More vitamins are definitely the answer. Expensive urine is better than a possible nutritional deficiency.
Oh, my blood work is all normal… again? Why is my TSH level a little low? I know it falls within normal limits, but what if it’s a fluke?
Let’s do more tests. Yes, more.
Yes, I know it’s not necessary because my test results are normal. Yes, I do still want more bloodwork. A full thyroid panel, ‘kaythanks.
Can we do some STD testing while we’re at it? No, I have no reason to think I have the clap, but what if I DO and it just never showed up on any other test or exam I’ve had in the seven or so years that the husband and I have been together??
And a repeat semen analysis, because I shouldn’t be the only one having this much fun.
I know what the real problem is…
I’m having a flare-up of the Infertile Crazies.
I’m self-diagnosing, self-treating, and generally just freaking out. I’m consulting Dr. Google far more than I should.
It’s bad. I think I’m scaring people.
I know I’m annoying my doctor… I think the next prescription they call in for me might be for Xanax.
…I’m sure that no part of this has anything to do with the fact that I am quickly approaching the four-year mark of this journey to motherhood.
I really hate failing. I’ve always been able to accomplish most of the things I’ve taken on in my life.
I always aced tests, and usually without even studying.
I had pretty drama-free relationships in my younger years, and my marriage is strong and self-sustaining.
I have kept old friends, and make new friends easily.
I’ve worked my way into a professional niche that I both enjoy and at which I am fairly adept.
I’m attractive (if you’re into mouthy brunettes), have a little style when I try, and I’m relatively healthy and in shape.
So why – WHY?! – can’t I do this?
This one thing?!
This one thing that every trampy sixteen-year-old manages to do in the backseat of their boyfriend’s hand-me-down Cutlass Ciera??!
Why can I do everything I want to in life, everything I put my mind to, except conceive a child?
It’s cruel. It keeps me up at night. There must be something I’m missing…
So that’s what all this crazy is about. I’m not used to being helpless. And in this situation, I am so very helpless.
The only thing I feel I can control is the number of test results and facts that I get in front of my doctors.
Obviously I can’t control the crazy, so why bother? I will just use it to feel like I’m making some sort of progress…
So I push for more. Tests. Procedures. Answers.
And of course it will all pass as soon as next cycle’s meds show up on my doorstep.
The cycle of insanity will come to a close, if only temporarily.
At some point I might have to accept the fact that I may never know why this is happening…
But that day is not today.