The Crazy Comes in Waves

I will probably go back and give you some insight into what our journey has looked like since we started trying to conceive, but for now I am going to dive right in close to the present.

Sometimes I do not ovulate (which as you can imagine does not help my fertility) and I was recently given a hormone that is given to women in order to jump them back to cycle day one (meaning: to force a period) so that they can have another shot at ovulation in a timely manner. I was placed on a 10 day cycle of said drug and had some fun side effects I would like to talk about.

The first noticeable side effect was some crazy mood swings. As I was experiencing them I kept trying to visualize a metaphor that helped explain it and this is the best I came up with: Imagine your normal ebb, flow, and flux is like high tide and low tide on a fairly peaceful shoreline. The effect of these hormones for me was like huge surfable waves crashing in. I knew they weren't really of me. They felt different from high and low tide… but all I could do was ride them out or get sucked under. I was thankful that I knew they were hormone related at the time so I didn't feel too crazy, but it was a less than enjoyable experience for all parties involved.

I had warned Jasper earlier in the day before St. Patrick’s day that I was having hormone related mood swings, but we still ended up having a rather ridiculous encounter later that night. A little back story here, when I was in preschool I was not wearing green on St. Patrick’s day and got pinched viciously which had left me feeling a little uneasy about the holiday ever since. This year, I had forgotten the following day was St. Patrick’s day until about 11:30 at night.

At this point I nearly panicked thinking I may not have green in my wardrobe for the following day, then I thought hits me: do I need to wear green tonight to ensure that I am not going to get pinched? So, I turn to Jasper and say, “Do you promise not to pinch me if I am not wearing green tomorrow.” To which he teasingly replies “I promise to pinch you,” which sends me into deep, genuine, and irrational fear. I run into the other room and scour both his and my side of the closet for something I can sleep in that is green.  I am throwing hangers around like a mad woman. I finally find an old light green tank top and throw it on feverishly. I walk back in the living room and sigh in relief saying “I found something green.” Jasper’s playful response, “…but that is not really like Saint Patrick’s Day green… I mean it doesn’t really count.” Which I respond to by sobbing violently while yelling “I TOLD YOU I WAS HORMONAL!!!!”

Poor Jasper had no idea what he was getting into. He immediately opens his arms to embrace me. Now, Jasper hates it when my hair is wet. I had recently showered and much earlier he had made a joking comment about not wanting me to touch him with my wet hair. So, naturally my response to his concern, compassion, and open arms is to yell “NO! I’m not allowed to touch you!” and run out of the room.

Did I mention this happened on the first day that I started to notice side effects? It didn’t get much prettier from there, folks. The next couple days, I felt constant opposites. At one point, I sat by myself trying to give words to my feelings. The best I came up with was “I want to punch someone while crying.” Later I deeply felt “I want to walk a mile while sleeping.”

If that wasn’t enough fun, two of my other main side effects were nausea and dizziness. In fact, there were multiple days that week that I was unable to drive because of how dizzy I was and days in which I was basically couch ridden because the slightest movement felt like turning my head into a spinning top. So yeah. Not a barrel of laughs.

One thing that meant an enormous amount to me that week was something Jasper said. I forget his exact words, but the conversation went something along the lines of the following.

Jasper: If I were the one that had to go through all of this, I would just be like: yeah… we're not gonna be having biological kids.

Me: Really?

Jasper: Yeah, you are a lot stronger than me.

I was really taken aback by that. Personally, I do not think I am stronger than him for a minute and most the time I feel like a wimp. Jasper always seems like he can handle anything. When he is sick I usually forget he is sick because he so chill about it, whereas I am a complainy & groany little thing. But it really means a lot to me that he thinks that about me. It makes me feel stronger. It makes me feel more hopeful. It makes me feel like I can do this.

Let me know if you have any questions about anything fertility or my life related or if there is anything in particular you’d like to see me address on here. Thanks!

I think my travel blog just became an infertility blog...

I have never been good at keeping a regular blog. I may never be. But I want to start blogging about my infertility issues. I am going to try to loosely follow Brene Brown’s guidelines of not posting anything potentially shame triggering that I haven’t processed yet with Jasper and close friends, so things on here might be time delayed. But I think this is important to talk about it.

I am trying to be honest about my journey. I want to be honest for a few reasons. One of which is, in some ways I still feel like we are living in the 1950s when it comes to sweeping certain emotions and journeys under the rug. Infertility is a surprisingly common struggle, but it still gets swept under a lot. Another reason I am wanting to do this is just as a way to process and vent to get through it.

Infertility is a struggle that brings up a lot of shame. I for one was really surprised at how much shame I felt and struggled with in response to my infertility problems. In the media and in society being a woman is so synonymous with being the one who brings life into the world (either that or being a sex object but that is a whole different rant), that a part of me felt less than a woman and less than a person as I was dealing with the initial shocks of hearing the news. I would never in my life think that of someone else, but I often treat myself much worse than I treat others. That is an issue that has come to a head through this emotional struggle, and I am truly thankful for it. I am learning self-compassion because my lack of it became so glaringly obvious it was impossible to ignore.

Not only does it bring up personal issues of shame, but it brings a lot of shaming from others (mostly accidental… at least I hope). When people see you in a struggle they feel they can’t relate to, they often say hurtful things. They are often trying to help by fixing the problem. But here’s the deal: I can’t fix this, you can’t fix this, and that has to be okay. You can sit with me in this grief, but please don’t try to fix it. If you are not my God or my reproductive endocrinologist, I am not looking for that from you. Advice, as well meaning as can be, can feel really blaming or condescending. I know you may not hear it when you say it, but that is honestly part of the reason I want to be a part of the open dialogue about this. If you are afraid of a misstep, feel free to make it with me. The more we talk about this the more likely we are to make some mistakes in the dialogue, but I am making a promise right now to address it (if I think it is helpful to do so) and to forgive you if I get hurt. There is no real way to learn how to talk about this other than talking about it.

I want this process to be easier for others starting this journey 10 or 20 years from now. I know it is still going to hurt. I am not a medical doctor so I can’t help on that end, but I am comfortable being open about it. My hope is the more people know about the prevalence of infertility issues and understand what that journey looks and feels like and what we need in the midst of this journey, the better we as a society can respond this over time. Infertility, like any issue that involves grieving or like any medical problem, can look different for different people. And a lot of people that chose to go through infertility treatments will likely be a lot less whiny than me. I am not a stiff upper lip kinda gal. I will rant and rail, but I will get through it.

Feel free to read this or not read it as much as you want. But I am putting this out here and hoping for the best.