Tag: aunt flo
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Sadism: A Day in the Life of Aunt Flo

I have a full understanding of the fact that having one’s period is part of a natural reproductive cycle, but considering the fact that my reproductive cycle seems to be anything BUT natural or reproductive, I like to imagine that having my period is less nature, and more wicked little sadistic fairy that looks like Helena Bonham Carter, sprinkling a healthy helping of misery over my life for a week each month. 

This is her story.

*****

5am.  Rise and shine!

It’s important to get an early start on a day like today.  The early bird catches the worm, and all that.

No worms today, though.  Today we need to be sure our girl here wakes up in a pool of her own blood.

Oh!  You know what?  Just for kicks, and because I haven’t had my coffee yet, let’s throw in some stabby, electric-shock-to-the-uterus, drop-to-your-knees, curl-up-in-the-fetal-position cramps.

And let’s start those… ohhh… about five minutes before her alarm goes off, because we all know how valuable those last few minutes of sleep can be…

Ahh, she’s up.  Time for a shower, dearie!  Yes, go ahead and get in… the hot water will help the cramps.

Perfect.  Now that she’s got a head full of shampoo, cue the diarrhea.

Today is going to be just lovely for us both, I can tell!

*****

You may think that I’m doing all of this to be a spiteful bitch, but you’re wrong.  I care.  A lot!  I even went as far as to show up three days early this month, because the last time I took a long weekend, she spent thirty bucks on pregnancy tests and then spiraled into a week-long funk when my inevitable visit finally did occur.

I do this because she needs to know that this is how nature works.  Sure, for her it seems like she’s being punished, and sure, sometimes I get a kick out of waving my wand and causing a tampon malfunction at a most inopportune time, but honestly, she needs me.

Because of me, at least she knows that she has a nice, healthy endometrial lining.

And that it sheds.  PROFUSELY.

You’re welcome, sweetie.

*****

Okay, back to today’s activities.  It looks like our girl has managed to make it through her shower, dressed herself, and has applied enough makeup to cover a little of her fatigue.

Oh, honey.  Khakis?  Well okay, but that’s going to be a problem later.

Alright, almost out the door.  Just one last sip of juice and.. what’s that?  Oh, she thinks I don’t get the irony of taking a prenatal vitamin on a day like today?  Well, I do, and she’s going to pay for that.

I’m going to wait until she gets to the busiest intersection in town before I make her puke up the entire contents of her stomach.

God, I love my job.

Oh!  I almost forgot!  I need to set the Bleed-Through Alarm!  I think once every hour and a half should do it, wouldn’t you say?

What, you think that’s too much?  Naaah.  Our girl here is tough.  And besides, she needs to learn not to wear khakis, like ever.

*****

Where were we…?  Oh right.  Our girl just tossed her cookies all over Cherry Street.  It looks like she’s now making a stop into a grocery store.  She probably ran out of feminine hygiene supplies.

I keep those companies in business, you know.

Hmm.  She’s got her shopping basket full of tampons, overnight maxi pads, heating patches, Pepto Bismol, and Midol.  She knows me so well!

Oh, she’s quick!  I need to move fast if I’m going to make sure that Peg, the kindly and sympathetic middle-aged cashier, is to go on break, and to be sure that whatever Frat-Boy-on-Summer-Vacation that’s working the morning shift is there to cash out her embarrassingly obvious purchase.

At least she didn’t buy a giant Hershey bar this time.

Oh wait… So predictable.  Tsk, tsk.

*****

Ah, so she’s made it to the office.  I don’t know why she thought heels were a good idea today, but I guess I’ll have to teach her yet another Menstrual Fashion Lesson.

Cue the lower back pain.

And random bouts of dizziness.

Right abouuuuuuut… Now.

Although Midol makes my job a little more difficult, here at her place of employment, she’s away from the true enemy – The Heating Pad.  A little pain reliever and anti-bloat medication won’t put a dent in my beautifully orchestrated Zombie Lurch each time she tries to run to the bathroom.

No, sir.  This ain’t my first rodeo.  I’m an artist!

*****

Well, we’ve made it to lunch. 

Ah, wise choice.  She’s skipping out on sustenance for fear of triggering any more of my creatively timed Digestive Pyrotechnics.  As if that would stop me…

I think it’s time to call in the reserves.  Afternoon Fatigue, this is a job for you.  I want her curled up in her office chair in absolute misery.  The bags under the eyes are a nice touch!

Ha, she thinks caffeine will make a difference!  How about fatigue plus jitters?  Let’s throw a little anxiety about those khakis in for kicks, too.

I told you she’d pay.

*****

Home at last.  See how she makes a play for her sweatpants and the dreaded Heating Pad?  That’s not going to work for me.  I’m not above shorting out that wretched device, but for today I’ll settle for inspiring her husband to bring home Chinese instead.  That should trigger some gag reflexes at least…

Oh, better yet, now they’re fighting!  Perfect!

*****

Ah yes, off to bed.  Early, too.  As if that will help her get any more rest tonight.  She’s barely eaten all day, and her life force has been quite literally draining out of her since she woke up.  Of course she’s feeling tired and fatigued, but the caffeine-mainlining act she’s been performing today will come back to bite her the second her head hits that pillow.

You should probably sleep on a towel, sweetie.  Trust me.

Only six more days of this, and then I’m on vacation till next month!

Sweet dreams, dear. 

I’ll be back before you know it…

 

 

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Mother’s Day Hangover and Other Things That Suck…

Monday, May 13th, 2013.  CD2.

Howdy folks.

I wish I had felt well enough to put fingers to keyboard yesterday, but alas, I did not.  There were so many lovely Mother’s Day posts floating around our little corner of the interwebs yesterday though, I doubt you really needed my two cents.

Though, of course, I will give it…

No situation quite outlines the suckiness of infertility quite like starting one’s period on Mother’s Day.

Blerg.

At any rate, I survived, if barely.  The husband and I went to lunch with his grandmother, who is a tiny firecracker of a woman, and I ate more salmon than any one person probably should.  We drove out to see his sister and her kiddos for a bit, too, and dropped off some flowers and a card.  She was so sweet and sent me home with a cute little potted flower and a package of mini-muffins, which I suppose should have lasted me at least until today, but cramps and an appetite for carbs and sugar destroyed that cute little notion.  I don’t think those bad boys lasted more than an hour after we left her house.

After the morning/early afternoon activity, the husband took me home and left me to my own devices, which included wrapping up in a giant blanket with my heating pad, Kindle, tv remote, and roughly six pots of tea.

I hope your Mother’s Day was as relaxing, if less crampy and bleedy.  🙂

On another note, the arrival of dear old Aunt Flo means that tomorrow is my appointment with Dr. F to see if my cyst has made a graceful exit, and whether or not I can proceed with a Femara/Gonal F cycle this month.

I sure hope that’s the case…

Oh, and an update on the Metformin Situation – all is well!  Even yesterday, with my reproductive system throwing my digestive system for a nauseating loop, I had no complaints from the Met.  I’m still only taking 1000mg of the original formula Met with dinner, but I’m feeling brave enough to increase that this week.  I think I’ll start taking 500mg with lunch, and another 1000mg with dinner as usual.

It’s unbelievable to me (and my doctor) that the extended release formula made me so sick when it’s usually the easier to tolerate option, and that the original formula that’s suppose to be complete havoc on the digestion is the one that’s working for me… What can I say, though?  I never do things the easy way.

In vitamin/supplement news, I started taking a high-dose B-12 supplement (even though tests showed that my level is normal), because Met is supposed to suck the B-12 right out of your body.  I also started the husband and myself on a good quality fish oil supplement every day.  He was skeptical, but so far he’s complying.

As for this cycle, I’m feeling a little… apathetic.

I know I should be all bright and sunshiney and full of hope and rainbows and glitter and unicorn poop, but I just don’t.

You know that feeling when you first ride a rollercoaster?  It’s exciting and you don’t know what’s coming next, and when the ride ends, you’re disappointed, but you can’t wait to try again.

Now imagine that you’ve been on that same ride, over and over again with scarcely a break, for over four years.

Boring, right?  The rises, falls, loops and drops – Hell, even the disappointment at the end becomes expected…

I just want off sometimes.

Maybe my attitude will improve once I talk to the doc tomorrow, or maybe I’ll make some crazy choice to just stop trying for a while.  Right now though, I can’t tell you what I really want.

I know that I want a baby.  I know that I want to do whatever I can to get there.  What I don’t know is whether I’m ready to get back on that ride again just yet… Only time will tell.

I’ll be sure to update tomorrow after my appointment, but for now, everyone have a Happy Monday!  🙂

 

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Poetry For the Aunt You Love to Hate

.

Haiku For My Shedding Uterus

.

Holiday of love

Emotions flowing freely

Also flowing: blood

.

Punctuate with care;

This, and grammar, are crucial.

F*cking period.

.

***

.

Ode to the Medicated Cycle

.

There was a determined young lady,

Who very much wanted a baby.

But there were only ten days

In her luteal phase,

And the meds made her go batshit crazy.

.

***

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A Sonnet: In Appreciation of My Heating Pad

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My heating pad is what I love the most.

It soothes my muscles when I’m feeling tense,

And heats me up like I’m a damn rib roast.

Clearly it’s worth the very small expense.

.

I bought it one day because I hurt my back,

I liked that I could use it dry or damp.

At times, my muscles still get out of whack,

But mostly it alleviates my cramps.

.

Its warm embrace helps keep my pain in check,

Without it, I’d perhaps be homicidal.

Today though, I’m a menstruating wreck;

I guess I’ll just stay home and take some Midol.

.

***

.

So, yeah.

Suck on THAT, Shakespeare.

.

Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day.

.

I hope Cupid has more up his sleeve for you and yours than he did for me and mine.

I mean, I know I can’t be the only one who prefers chocolate, roses, and a night in with their lover to tampons, pain killers, and the company of cats and crap TV.

.

Can you feel the love tonight?  😉

Image

Delusions.

11DPO?

Temperature dipped below the coverline?

Cramps, pimples, and sugar cravings?

What could this mean, Ryan my love?

ryan

Status

Radio Silence 3.0… Probably.

Wednesday, December 19th, 2012.  CD23, 12DPO.

I’m going into hiding for a few days.

Probably, anyway.

I don’t expect to have great news to broadcast this Christmas, largely because for a few days now, I have been feeling crampy and bloaty and just… Ugh.

Aunt Flo and her always-ironic timing are probably on their way, just in time for my family to arrive this weekend.

I suppose I should just join the camp where I hope Auntie shows her face as soon as possible so that Christmas Eve and Christmas Day aren’t completely miserable.

Anyway, I’m probably going to keep quiet for a few days, mostly out of lack of time to post, and partially because I might just not want to talk about how disappointed I am during the most jolly time of year.

If I’m not able to make it back here in time for Christmas, let me just convey my wishes now:

Happy ChristmaHanukKwanzaKuh!

May the season bring you love and light and blessings,

May your tampon drawer remain closed for many months,

May your pee-sticks have two lines,

And may your uterus be filled with joy and babies.  🙂

I love you guys. 

 

Please tell me this really exists…

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Yeah. Pretty Much…

 

Guess who just got here?

UGH.

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My Period Shall Now Be Called “Shark Week”

And with that…

Happy Shark Week, friends.

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Sometimes All You Can Do Is Laugh…

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Door Number Four

Monday, May 21st, 2012.  CD1.

Well, it’s been a whirlwind twenty-four hours.

This time yesterday I was staring at a home pregnancy test with a very visible second line.

Oh, and freaking out.  I freaked out.  More than a little.

Fast forward a few hours and a few more pregnancy tests (all of which were negative), and the telltale spotting began.

By this morning, I was fully aware (read: no longer in denial and losing a great deal of blood) that my third IUI cycle was done.

I called the doc on the way to my beta this morning to let them know I’d be needing my Cycle Day 1 blood work and ultrasound.

I decided to be gentle with myself for a change, and stayed home from work today.  Right now, I’m in bed and catching up on some DVRed programming I’ve been too busy to watch.

(Off topic:  Does every show on TV right now have an infertility/miscarriage/adoption story line going on?  Oy!  First Grey’s Anatomy, then Private Practice, and now Sister Wives?  I may not have chosen the best shows to watch for this particular day in my life.  Ugh.  Rant over.)

And so, with that unceremonious end and a negative beta, we trudge on to IUI cycle four.  This will be the last cycle in the AMIGOS unexplained infertility study, which also means that it’s my last fully-funded IUI cycle.

In an effort to make this one count, the docs agreed to increase my meds.  They are hoping that increasing the follicular count will help me have better odds of fertilization and implantation.

Very science-y, docs.

I don’t care what we have to do…  Just gimme mah baby.

Now you go get to work on that.  I’m gonna lay here and try not to die.

This makes me extra-proud of the bits of Danish blood I have in me. The pastries don’t hurt either.

Aside

Harry Potter and the Deathly Period

Having your period is just like a Dementor attack:

It sucks the life out of you, leaves you a trembling shell of a person curled in the fetal position, and chocolate is the only thing that makes you feel human again.

Expecto PatronuMIDOL!!!

 

The end.

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