Hope springs eternal. I don't know where that quote came from, but it's summarizing where I am today. I'm trying to shake off my gloomies from that doctor visit on Thursday and get back on track to reach my goals. What's helping me change? Lots of stuff, but a lot of it has to do with my faith.
First up---we've been cleaning out the office. It's a slow process, made slower by the fact that I don't want hubby organizing my craft stuff and the fact that my allergies have made me a walking zombie for the last month. While we were looking through papers, we found our one ultrasound picture of Elizabeth. I had thought it was lost forever, and we both just stopped what we were doing and just stared at her. She was so tiny, so perfect. It was like getting a miracle all over again. Bittersweet, because we still mourn her, but joyous because what was lost had been found. (There's a whole sermon in that, but I'll get to that at another time)
Second--I'm feeling better (allergy-wise), and I've decided that the Nurse Practitioner will not defeat me. I'm not keeping the food journal (my small act of rebellion), but I am keeping track of my calories. Since upping my Met dose, I have had zero on the appetite scale, and when I do eat, I am in the bathroom within 15 minutes. I am eating because I know that I need food for energy, but I'm not eating much of anything. I'm trying to do 100 ounces of water a day, which didn't happen yesterday, but I'll keep on it. Then I'm going to start working out again tomorrow--when I'm able to do Curves again (I fell at school 2 weeks ago--sprained my right ankle, severely skinned the left knee, skinned my left elbow, and jammed/hyper-extended my right thumb--go me!). I'm finally able to grip with my right hand again, so back to working out I go. Even if I don't lose a single pound this month, I WILL be more forceful at my next appointment. I have a hard time being hard-nosed with people because I want to give everybody the benefit of the doubt the first time I meet them. When you bulldoze over me, blow me off, and treat me like I don't have a college education, then I get ticked. There will be no mercy, but I will still be nice. This will be their last chance.
Third, and perhaps definitely the most important, is that Easter was yesterday. That may not mean a lot to you, but to me it is everything. I got to direct our cantata yesterday, and as we were singing our praise to God, I just felt His spirit envelop me. It was as if He was wrapping me in His love and letting me know that everything was going to work out. How can I keep from singing His praises? How can I ever say enough--how amazing is Your love? How can I stay in the pit when Your desire is to lift me to the palace?
I know that it is still going to be a rough road, and knowing me, it will be full of potholes and speed traps and problems. But I'm not alone. I haven't ever been alone, even when I've been at my worst. God is right there with me, supporting me in ways that even my husband can't, reminding me over and over and over that I am HIS child, and that HE has great things in store for us, and that we WILL become parents. My hope has been restored, my life renewed. Hope is alive!
Today was the day of the big doctor appointment. The first one at the shiny new doctor's office. The one I waited four months for. The one I had been dreading for many reasons. The one where I hoped that I would be treated like a person, not a number, and where I would be taken seriously. You know, THAT Doctor's appointment.
So I prepared myself.
Freshly shaved legs--check
Nice smelling clean body--check
Deodorant---double check
Made sure to write PCOS on paperwork--double check
Prayed before going in---triple check
It was almost like going on a first date, except I was more nervous. I got out of the elevator and went to the receptionist, checked and then got asked this question: "Well, it shows here that we scheduled you with the nurse practitioner instead of the doctor. Will that still be OK?" Huh????? After I waited for 4 months for this appointment, then got called last week that the doctor couldn't see me on my scheduled date, so we re-scheduled so I could see her, AND I DROVE FOR OVER AN HOUR AND A HALF to get to your office to see the DOCTOR that you are now telling me you DIDN'T schedule me to see? Nooooooooooooooo, there's no problem with that. (cue my internal growling) Externally, my sad, sorry allergy-ridden self just said, "Well I suppose it has to be OK since I'm already here." What was I supposed to say? "No, please reschedule me with the doctor and let's do another four month wait and forget about the fact that I drove an hour and a half to get to your clinic."
That just rang my bell and put me in a bad mood. I decided to just shake it off as I waited my turn. I noticed that every woman was either skinny or pregnant. Just my luck. Of COURSE they were skinny or pregnant. It probably wouldn't have bothered me if I wasn't already in a bad mood, but it did bother me today. Ugh.
I went in and got my vitals taken. I've actually lost 7 pounds from December according to this scale. That perked me up a bit. Then the NP came in. I realize that this was a yearly visit and an initial consult, BUT...it still bothered me when she said that most of the time irregular periods are caused by a metabolic disorder. I politely interrupted and told her I had PCOS. "Oh, you do? How long have you had that diagnosis?" (grumble, growl) "I've had the diagnosis for over 2 years." (IT WAS ON THE PAPERWORK I HAD TO FILL OUT IN TRIPLICATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) "Well, the standard treatment for PCOS is metformin. We'll start you back on that and get you losing weight before we do any other treatments to see if we can get you ovulating on your own." Oh, and no clomid for at least six months--they want to see if I can get pregnant on my own...JUST MY LUCK.
I knew I probably wouldn't get anything this visit, but I still had this tiny hope that I wouldn't get just told to lose weight. Here is my prescription for the next month:
Obesity--(Was I really unaware of this????) You need to lose 10% of your body weight. When you lose this 26 pounds, you'll probably start ovulating on your own and everything will be better.
Food Journal---Keep a journal for the next month and bring it with you to your next appointment so you can talk to a nutritionist about food choices and caloric intake. (Because, you know, the only way you can gain weight is if you eat too many calories and don't exercise--PCOS NEVER messes with that....is my sarcasm showing?)
Metformin--Start taking your metformin again and up the dose. It should help you to lose some weight.
(It will, because it makes me sick as a dog and I don't eat...but I'll take it to be a good patient.)
Soooo....I have another appointment in a month, where I will be told how to eat healthy, lose more weight, and exercise more. Because losing weight will magically fix my body and allow me to get pregnant. Just my luck.
On the plus side, I didn't cry when she handed me the informational brouchure on PCOS (which by now I could have written myself--with a LOT more compassion), I didn't cry when she told me to just lose some weight, and I didn't cry until I got to my car. I considered that a small victory.
I just really need prayers right now. I'm almost 34, just a year away from "advanced maternal age", where they start discouraging you from having children. I'm tired of being told that I'm only fat because I have been eating the wrong things and that if I really tried, I'd be as skinny as my younger sister. I'm tired of feeling like the world's biggest misfit because I can't have children. I'm tired of being stuck in this rut where I can't progress on any front. And I'm tired of having to fight for every. single. thing.
I know that I don't have a lot of readers here, and that's OK, but I'd really, really, really like it if I could have some positive affirmations in the comments section. I know in my head that I'm not alone and that people are praying for me, but right now I just feel isolated and alone. I know that God has a plan here somewhere, but I can't see it right now. I'm just, I don't know, defeated, I guess. Got any good scriptures or words of advice? Cause I need them, I really do.
Three years ago today will forever go down as the worst day of my life. Hands down, no doubt about it, no questions asked. It was the day I miscarried our daughter. I can't and don't want to tell you every detail, but needless to say, I remember each and every one of them in vivid technicolor. People tell you that time dulls the pain, and to an extent it does, but not the pain in your heart. You eventually learn to function, to go out in public, to explain why you get depressed or cry when you hear of pregnancy and birth announcements, and to share why you wear a ribbon over your heart on the anniversary of her loss.
What never gets mentioned is the fact that things are never as bright, as shiny, as they once were. The best thing I can think to describe it is that finding out you are pregnant is like waking up in Oz. Everything is bright and shiny and wondrous and new. You have all these new experiences, meet new people, and suddenly belong to this elite group of "almost" moms. A miscarriage is like being picked up by the tornado and hurled viciously to the ground. Then life after loss is like waking up back in the black and white world. You got to visit Oz, but you never got to stay there. Your eyes will never see the colors the same way again. Then, the longer you stay in Kansas, the harder it is to remember what Oz was like. You remember the joy, the excitement, the hope---but they seem only like dreams. On the other hand, the tornado still seems all too real.
Does that make sense? That's about the best word picture I have right now. I know that there's another end to the rainbow, but it's been so long since I've seen it that it seems far away. That's not to say that I spend every day doubled over in grief. I've moved on, I've survived. But I haven't forgotten. I WILL NEVER forget. I have been able to make peace with things. It doesn't mean that I understand what happened, or that I'm happy with the way things turned out. It just means that I'm starting to see more than just black and white again. I was able to go through the entire day without bursting into tears. I was able to explain that the ribbon I wore today was in honor of Elizabeth, and said that without sniffing. I was able to say that with pride. I'm to the point where I am ready to make our name in the sand picture into a print and hang it where I can see it every day.
I am more than ready to become a mom. I want it with all of my heart. I'm taking baby steps to get there. I have to get through this doctor appointment on Thursday morning, and then we'll see from there. Whether I get told that children that look like me and my husband are an impossibility or that we have a chance, I am ready to find a path that leads to motherhood. Heaven help me, I'm ready. And willing. And waiting.
