Tag Archives: HSG

New Years Resolution like no other

5 Jan

I’ve never really given anything up for New Years. I used to give things up for Lent, especially sugar a few times. And that was horrible for only 40 days.

Things are about to get really real.

In an effort to get pregnant “naturally,” I have started on the craziest, most depriving, anti-inflammatory diet I’d ever hope for. And I’m lucky enough that my husband is joining in as he sees fit for his needs!

No Sugar.

Minimal Wheat.

Minimal Dairy.

Minimal Alcohol.

Take Supplements: Turmeric, Magnesium, Bee Propolis, Probiotics, and a multivitamin.

Increase Fish, Fruits, Vegetables, Nuts, Beans, and Exercise.

It was probably a mistake to ramp up my consumption of everything on the “no” list before new years, because it certainly made the first few days harder. Day 1 wasn’t so bad, but day 2 left me queasy, headachy, and shaky. I stayed up way too late during a game night, and when I got home I was suffering pretty badly. I have barely had any of the minimal stuff and have avoided alcohol.

Detoxing is no joke.

It might make no real difference in my ability to get pregnant. A recent diagnosis due to an HSG showed that my tubes (despite what I thought at the time of the test) are not fairing well. Only one side is open, and it might be damaged beyond repair. The point of this diet has nothing to do with weight, but to give my body the best chance of repairing itself and to get rid of endometriosis if that is my problem. And, if we do something like IVF, my eggs will be that much happier during the process.

My entire life I’ve said that I would never do IVF. I said, “Oh, if I can’t get pregnant, I will adopt. There are too many babies out there that need homes.” My, how life shows you how foolish you can be.

I’ve talked recently to friends who have adopted, exploring our options. My friend who went through a private adoption said that it cost them about $40,000 per child when you include all expenses such as travel etc. Even if it somehow cost us half of that, we have to cross that off our list.

I also talked to a friend who has done the foster-to-adopt route. Her story could very well be different than others, but one of the things she emphasized is that you do not know that you will be able to keep the baby you have been raising until at least a year, but most likely a year and a half. The state actively tries to take the baby away from you and give them to a family member (as it should be I suppose). Also, many babies are born addicted to drugs, and with that comes its own complications. This is an option I would like to explore later, but right now, I want at least one more that is mine.

I almost wish I hadn’t wanted 4-7 children, as I told our pastor when we were going through pre-marital counseling. It would be so much easier then.

And it doesn’t help that Walter has started saying, unprompted: “Mama, I have brothers and sisters. They just aren’t here yet. When they get here we will sit on the couch together and share my castle.”

I’m just going to continue hoping that he is prophetic. After all, my new supplements have definitely improved my mental state! I’m full of hope and happiness these days! (Seriously, I’m not joking. I’m not sure if it’s the magnesium, turmeric, or bee propolis, but I’m a new woman).

Happy 2016, folks. Here’s to life fulfilling all our innermost wishes!

Advertisements

Edison didn’t get it right on the first try #infertilityproblems

7 Dec

Dealing with secondary infertility is hard. On one hand, you’ve had a kid, so you don’t fit in with people who have primary infertility. And then, you don’t fit in with those of an abundance of fecundity. My least favorite reaction, that I’ve gotten from many people, is: “At least you have one”… is that supposed to make me feel better? Or stop me from feeling my feelings? Do you think I’ve forgotten how lucky I am to have my son?

But really it’s my own internal thoughts that drive me nuts. I keep wondering… If God is in charge… does he not want me to have another one? If that’s true, is it because of Walter or because of me? Is Walter so special that I need to do even more for him? Or am I not a good enough mother to deserve another one?

Then on my good days I think… maybe the kids I produce are just so very awesome that it takes a long time to get it right. My one stellar kid equals like four regular kids.

Or, maybe not everyone is supposed to get pregnant whenever they want. Maybe it’s normal to space out kids every five years or so.

Maybe I’m supposed to adopt? I feel it calling to me.

But all I really want, at this point, is to stop thinking about it. I want to stop being reminded every day by either myself or external factors that there is even an issue. I need to live in the moment.

Comme ci, comme ça

12241038_10153485173694425_5490774137094924888_o

Right now we’re at a bit of an impasse. My regular midwife says “Oh plan a big trip you can’t get out of, and then you’ll get pregnant.” The fertility specialist I’ve seen once says it’s either endometriosis or unexplained infertility, both of which require IUI or IVF. Neither of which I’m planning on doing.

I’ve had a saline sonogram (which was terrible) and an HSG (which was not). Lots of bloodwork and ultrasounds. Charting: BBT, CM, cervical position. You get really good at understanding the acronyms on TTC conceive boards.

You read about people who have been trying for eight years with no success, and you feel incredibly lucky. You read about people who are frustrated after four months, and you want to say: chin up, you don’t have it so bad.

We’re looking in to supplements and diet changes, as I’ve been reading a lot about naturopathy and fertility. I basically do it all wrong as it stands, which I suppose for my body really matters (even though I think I was much more unhealthy before I got knocked up with Walt). We’re also seriously thinking about adoption. Hopefully in the next year or two we’ll add a bundle of joy to the Johnston clan, no matter what biology throws at us. And if Dave is lucky, it won’t be several new kittens.