A friend of long ago once said she’d been raised in a Catholic school where the nuns shied from sex education and talking much about those parts of our bodies that have to do with sex and reproduction. However, for whatever reason, they did try, probably to prepare girls for the day that they would start to bleed and therefore be able to bring about more humans. The friend said the nuns explained ovaries as being like a popcorn popper, popping ripe kernels into full blossomed eggs.

An odd image to be sure, but corn like ovaries does have many seeds within it. It’s probably closer to liken an ovary to a pomegranate or a fig, though both are far too large in relation to the size of an ovary. A gynecologist told me that research has shown that women don’t ovulate on one side, and then the opposite the next month. It goes more like this: right, right, left, right, right, left, with one side producing more. Maybe it ties into whether we’re left or right-handed but I don’t know.

The world of gynecology and women’s reproductive systems is complex and as a woman I have had my fair share of issues. Over the years I have used three types of birth control: birth control pills, diaphragms and condoms (worn by my partner as I have not tried a woman’s condom). They all have their issues. Condoms can be uncomfortable and need lube. Diaphragms have to be left in for many hours after sex and can increase yeast infections. Birth control pills can cause cysts, heart conditions and various other denied problems

I was on the birth control pill for about twelve years and it gave me hard and lumpy breasts. Cysts. These cysts can range from smaller than pea sized to as large as a pear. And yes, when they change from the normal size I have to get them checked out. They can be very painful and tender and during ovulation by breasts can swell up to two inches. Inflatable breasts are not as much fun as they sound.

These cysts can also be in the ovaries. So if they are like corn, imagine the cysts as a type of ergot. What that means in how they look, I don’t know. What it means for fertility probably depends on the number, size and severity of cysts. They can rupture and do other fun things that can cause a lot of pain. Ovulation can be very painful to the point where I can’t stand up straight. Sitting can hurt and pain can range from a general bruising feel to a sharp stabbing.

Anytime something seems out of the norm it is best to get it checked by a doctor. So one particular year when my popper was on the blink I went to a gynecologist. I was sent for exploratory surgery, a laparoscopy that leaves three small incisions and which they use to look around inside. The gynecologist said after the surgery, well you may have cystic ovaries and maybe not. We can put you back on the pill. I said, I’m not going back on as there are side effects after thirty. He said, what effects? Even if he didn’t believe the evidence out there, as specialist he should have known about the studies.

And one side effect? Cystic breasts and ovaries. I left, never to see that particular doctor again. A friend recommended a naturopath. At the time I didn’t quite know what they were or maybe even believe in them. But the naturopath gave me a  liver cleanser, a capsule, to take for three months and it did in fact fix the problem until three years later when I had a cyst in the uterus and that had to be removed.

The medical profession doesn’t always have all the answers nor do individual doctors always have the experience, knowledge and wherewithal to diagnose properly. It was only years later that I found out I had endometriosis as well. What’s that? The butter on the popcorn? I think not.

So as analogies go, ovaries are not much like popcorn or popcorn poppers. They pop on average one egg a month. That would be pretty slim pickings in the movie theater. No butter, no salty topping. Just eggs and cysts.

Talking sex with your doctor isn’t always easy. Whether you are afraid she or he will judge you,  you just don’t feel comfortable sharing the intimate details of your life between the sheets, or you can’t think straight with a speculum between your legs, many people get tight lipped in the doctor’s office. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have questions.

We thought we’d help and every Thursday our friend Dr. Lissa Rankin will be answering your questions. The ones you couldn’t ask your doctor in person and didn’t really trust the Yahoo community to answer for you. Just leave your questions in the comments, or send em over to us. (We’ll keep it all anonymous for you.) Dr. Lissa will answer anything – really, anything – about sex and other lady things. Don’t be shy; she’s waiting for ya!

Q: My period is irregular every month. Sometimes it comes 6 weeks apart and other times it can be up to 9.  I am not on birth control (can’t handle the side effects) and practice safe sex with my boyfriend. The problem is that I get freaked out every month that I’m pregnant. How soon can I take the test? Are there any signs I can look for that will either tell me I’m absolutely not pregnant or that maybe I am?

A: Sounds like your periods are annoying, unpredictable and scary. Bummer about that.  Chances are, if your periods are that irregular, that you’re not ovulating regularly, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to worry about pregnancy. Your ovaries can still spit out an egg from time to time. When you’re not ovulating regularly, your uterus doesn’t know when to bleed, and your hormones can be all over the place.  Why might you be skipping periods or not ovulating?

Common Reasons for Irregular, Infrequent Periods:

- You exercise vigorously (think marathon runners and competitive gymnasts)
- You have an eating disorder.
- You’re overweight.
- You’re young and your body just hasn’t matured yet.
- You’re under a lot of stress.
- Your thyroid hormones are out of whack.
- You have polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS).

What can you do about irregular, infrequent periods?

See your gynecologist. A thorough physical exam and laboratory evaluation are in order. If you can’t take birth control pills, progesterone therapy may help balance out your hormones, assuming there isn’t some other underlying cause.

In the mean time, what can you do about the pregnancy scares? That’s tricky. There’s no reliable sign to signal to you whether you’re definitely pregnant. Some people experience nausea, breast-tenderness, and fatigue in early pregnancy, but many women do not. Technically, a pregnancy test should be positive within two weeks of ovulation, but since you have no clue when or if you’re ovulating, that makes it tough to time taking pregnancy tests. You can try taking a pregnancy test four weeks after the first day of your last period, when you would expect your period to come if it was regular. If that’s negative, repeat it every two weeks after that until your next period comes.

But that’s just a band-aid. You’re better off getting to the root of the problem and seeing a doctor.  Good luck, honey. I hope you get it sorted out.

It’s weird….I have moments this month where I’m not worried about this process and then I have moments where it’s all I can think about!

For the last 2 months my cycle has been 45 days!!!  (got my period today) It’s crazy!  From about day 30 on I can’t help but get my hopes up!  And we’re going through pregnancy tests like crazy (which is NOT cheap!!)!

The worst part about this whole 45 day thing, is that it’s so hard to determine WHEN is the best time to have lots of sex!  And I love my husband (and he loves me) but neither of us have the time or stamina to go at it every day for 40 days (or even every other day!)  Plus, when I’ve been doing the basal body temperature thing, it showed me that we had sex the day and 2 days before I ovulated….but nothing!  I can’t help but worry that this means there’s something wrong with my husband or me!

A couple that we’re close with just decided to start trying this months as well, so C (the woman) and I have talked about it a bit….. I told her about my 45 day fiasco and her reply (which I’ve also heard many times from my husband) was “well, it can take up to a year to get the pill out of your system.”  SOOOO not helpful eh?!

Anyway, I love C and G, and it’s exciting for them to be starting this as well (though she was never on the pill), but if they get pregnant before us, I think I’m going to have a very hard time being honestly happy for them!  And I hate that, because they’re great people and deserve to be happy to!  But I guess time will tell on that eh?

As it is, when I see very pregnant women on the street, or people with brand new babies, I can’t help but mutter under my breath “must be nice @@#$$# @#$%!”  Crazy!  I’ve turned into someone with turrets syndrome around babies and pregnant bellies it seems!

Anyway, feels a bit better to get this out…. I just wish I had more time right now to write more!

Funny how that term takes on a whole new meaning when one is trying to conceive.  Once deemed a drug addicts brand, now women everyone are proud to stand up tall and scream to a biased world “I’m a proud pill popper” and then get amused at the strange glances she received….or is that just me?

I’ve decided to fill my script for Clomid, give it another balls to the wall attempt.  Perhaps if I dont’ forget a pill (pff with my memory? yeah right) and take it with the Metformin, time it right, throw my legs over my shoulders and paddle my own arse, then maybe…just maybe I might be in with a chance…

My Husband takes a full productive role, throwing himself into his job in the whole TTC process, with very little arguement, in fact NO arguement at all.  Funny that?  He’s so automated when it comes to us trying sometimes, I guess time does that to one.  All I have to do is start peeing on sticks as O approached and he stands to attention *ahem*.  Yup, no problems on that front.  All systems go.

And so a new cycle begins

Photo by rachelg

While many women think that getting pregnant will be no trouble, millions of women in America struggle with infertility. According to a new survey for First Response(R), 70 percent of women who may want to have children think they can get pregnant whenever they want. But according to RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association, infertility affects 7.3 million Americans.

Now women trying to conceive can buy First Response(R) Fertility Test to quickly and easily identify their potential for becoming pregnant. The test allows women to measure follicle stimulating hormone (FSH) levels to evaluate ovarian reserve – egg quantity and quality.

“Three questions I often get asked by my patients are: am I able to conceive, am I ovulating and am I pregnant? ” said Dr. Lisa Masterson, M.D., a Santa Monica-based OB/GYN affiliated with Cedars-Sinai, St. John’s and UCLA/Santa Monica hospitals, and a co-host on The Doctors. “The First Response(R) Fertility Test empowers women to ask the right questions, right from the start, when they’re trying to get pregnant so they can take charge of their fertility future.”

How the First Response(R) Fertility Test Works

The First Response(R) Fertility Test measures FSH levels in a woman’s urine on the third day of her menstrual cycle. Results appear on the urine stick within 30 minutes with 95 percent accuracy. If FSH levels are found to be above normal, this may indicate that her ovarian reserve is low and may be interfering with her ability to become pregnant.

A woman should speak to her doctor if:

• Her FSH levels are above normal.
• Her FSH levels are normal, but she’s 35 years or older and has been trying to get pregnant for at least six months, she’s younger than 35 and has been trying to get pregnant for at least 12 months, or she’s any age and does not have menstrual periods or has irregular periods.

The First Response(R) Fertility Test for Women is available at major food, drug and mass merchandise outlets. A package with two test sticks has a suggested retail price of $24.99. For more information, visit www.FirstResponse.com.

I don’t know about you gals, but there’s something about shopping that always puts me in a better mood when I’m down in the dumps.  This is especially true when I’m PMSing–buying myself new, pretty and sparkly things makes me feel so much better about myself (even if trying things on over my bloated ass does not).  Now there’s proof that there may actually be a biological reason for why shopping makes us so happy.

A new study says that women are more likely to go on a shopping spree about 10 days before their period, on which they actually tend to spend more than usual and are more inclined towards making impulse purchases. (Editor’s Note: that explains the Snuggie….) GREAT — as if we needed yet another way PMS ruins our lives.

The psychologists who conducted the survey had two theories as to why this is the case.  First, they believe that women shop right before getting their periods in order to counteract the negative emotions they feel during that time (like feeling stressed out or depressed). Um, duh!

The other theory is that since this is time in a woman’s cycle that she’s ovulating, women buy things to make themselves more attractive, such as makeup or high heels. Tru dat.

While it may be tempting to use the “But I had PMS!” excuse when explaining the credit card bills to mom and dad, resist the urge. The study also revealed that most purchases made during this time were followed by serious buyer’s remorse. Your best bet is to wait out the PMS in bed with a bucket of cookie dough instead of at the mall; an empty bank account (and a freaking Snuggie) is no way to beat those pre-menstrual blues.

My DH suggested today that I write a book based on my infertility experiences….basically a more detailed version of everything I have written here thus far (plus those relevent events which predate this blog).

He has a point.  I receive a lot of email on a regular basis from people wanting to know more.  And I know I’ve touched people’s lives around the world (from Canada to Australia, South Africa, Slovenia, and more!)

My Question is….should I write the book?  Would anyone be interested?

I’m interested in some honest feedback.

I went to the grocery store today and was checking out the oranges in the produce section, when a gentle-looking man passed by and smiled at me.  Grinning back, I followed his gaze as he strolled over to a cart nearby containing sundry items surrounding a baby carrier.  Irresistible, I had to go take a peek.

“May I?” I shyly queried.

He nodded and I closed in on my target.  There beneath the rainbow toy-festooned handle lay a tiny baby swaddled to the nines in yellow and green blankets. The baby was all pink and soft with just the slightest hint of dark hair peeking out from beneath a beige cap.  Large dark eyes searched my face as I did my best to finesse a smile out of the kid.  A stubborn frown soon split into a full-blown grin, and I wondered what this cute little sucker was. Dang!  Neutral colors always make gender determination a bit trickier.  I was going to have to get creative in my line of questioning.  “Ooooh!  What a beautiful child,” I trilled.

“Thank you,” he replied without any acknowledgment of my quandary.  Grrrrr.

“Two months?” I suggested with a hint of been-there-done-that nonchalance.

“Wow! You’re good.  Just about two months exactly!” he exclaimed, his eyes dancing merrily.

This was going to be harder than I thought.  He was either clueless about my cluelessness, or he was just enjoying my conversational squirming. Baby was still locked on my face, so I chortled sweet little nothings to it, while the father just watched quietly.

“What a little flirt,” I exclaimed.  Mr. New Dad just smiled, nodding in agreement.  Tricky bastard.  Finally, casting a long glance towards the dairy section as if there was something fascinating going on there, I decided to make my departure without ever asking the sex of the child.

“Congratulations.  Bye,” I stated while pushing my cart towards an enticing sale display.

“Bye!” His enormous grin clearly indicating that he found my ineptitude highly amusing…

“Pffft,” I muttered to no one in particular.

Wandering aimlessly around the store, I considered the evidence:  generic rainbow toys that weren’t dollies or trucks merely suggested that the kid was getting entertained.  Over-swaddling hinted at a feminine child – or a very fragile… b-aby.  Duh. Yellow and green clothes intimated virtually nothing since the only color that almost ever guarantees accurate identification is pink.  As for the cherubic smile and glowing personality, these were not indicative of anything significant beyond the sort of speculation that can give your brain whiplash if you think too hard about it.  The nondescript cap was less than a moot point, because everyone knows you really ought to cover their little heads when they’re young.

So there it was, an unsolved mystery to ponder. Which pissed me off because once upon a time, I was a very considerate new mom, always dressing my child in pastel outfits and ruffled raingear.  She wore an assortment of elastic bows that left little ruching marks on her nearly hairless scalp when removed.  It was her first lesson on how uncomfortable being beautiful could be (not to mention how utterly shallow mommy could be) – however, no one ever had to question the gender of my baby!

Shoot!  I wanted to find that Mr. New Dad and give him a piece of my mind!  I wanted him to know that his insensitive parenting choices left a lot to be desired…  that he deserved to feel the frustration that he was causing other people with his thoughtlessness!

When I rounded the next aisle, lo and behold – there he was, clutching the grocery cart as an uber-handsome man was making funny faces and cooing at the baby of indeterminate gender!  Mr. New Dad, however, was not smiling.  His pallor was about the same as the baby’s cap.  His eyes were darting nervously between his child and the stranger.  Hmmmm…. mystery solved.  I strolled past the little gathering, my hips jutting ever-so-righteously, and turned around to gloat at Mr. New Dad.

“I know, isn’t she adorable?!” I declared to Joe Studly.  Mr. New Dad looked at me wide-eyed and then quickly pressed the shopping cart on down the aisle.  Only a father would look that nervous when a good-looking man is enjoying a flirt-a-thon with his little baby daughter!

Joe Studly and I exchanged smiles and he said, “Aren’t babies amazing creatures?”

“Listen, you are cute,” I countered, “but babies make me ovulate.”

He just laughed and I pushed my cart down the aisle towards checkout.  Even if I knew how to dress ‘em and raise ‘em, there was no point in trying to prove it again.

Photo from Anne Geddes

Peeing on sticks is good fun and stuff, especially in public, but I think it’s the best when you panic that you don’t have enough urine and scream for your wife to bring a bowl in from the kitchen.

At any rate, I’ve had my first positive test for ovulation. As today is the sixteenth day of my cycle (day one is the first day of a woman’s period), it means I will ovulate in 24-36 hours. I am leaning towards the 24 hour zone, especially as my public bathroom pee test yesterday yielded the darkest negative line I’ve ever had. I’m a bit concerned about being a ‘late ovulator,’ because that means there is less time before my period for a fertilised egg to implant in my uterine lining.

I feel I should draw a diagram or something.

With or without diagram, though, at least I can stop using up VERY expensive piss sticks for this month and just concentrate on watching the Olympics with Corporate T and TMD. Later on today will feature a long walk to a neighboring village, all in the hopes of finding something good to eat.

Today I received a wonderful surprise…. beautiful crosshairs.  I’m 3dpo.

Yay me!

I’m here! I’m here!  Really…I’ve been here the whole time, just neglecting to post anything.

Mainly due to the lack of interestingness (??) in my life…

But here’s a first — I’m taking the whole day off work today.  Exciting, right?  Yeah, except that I’m sick and there’s just nothing exciting about being sick.

I still have to go down to the bank and make a loan payment… but that’s about it for excitingness (I know…good words today, right?) for me.

My OPK’s are still negative but seem to slowly getting darker.  I suspect I’ll have the big O-Day on the weekend sometime.

Today is the last day of my clomid tablets.  So now…I wait.

Sometimes it’s even more stressful than the 2ww….because if I don’t pay attention, I could miss the big O Day and the whole month will be a waste.

….and so I wait.

Thank you to everyone for your  hopeful, supportive comments.  But, AF arrive this morning and apparently she’s miffed that I actually thought she might not be coming this month.  She seems angry…. giving me horrible cramps too.

I guess I’ll be calling in for my refill of Clomid today, so I can start Round #7 tomorrow.

Yay…. [sarcasm]

Wow… yeah… I think today’s OPK is MUCH more positive than yesterdays. This is pretty exciting stuff (minus the nausea…)

———————

And in other news, I heard back from my OB/GYN…. here’s what he had to say:

“Hi Erin,
Sorry that you are getting frustrated. It is understandable. Femara is not approved for this treatment yet and I do not have any experience with it so it is only used under the direction of a Fertility Specialist. The next step would be to be referred to a Fertility Specialist in Vancouver, although I really need to check your chart to see if we have covered all bases. I am at home so do not have access to your chart right now. Once we have determined that you are ovulating on the Clomid and if you continue to have regular periods on the Clomid, it is usually not necessary to repeat the progesterone test on day 21 of every cycle. Call me if you have questions. “

I suppose lots of people would be excited to be sent to a REAL fertility specialist.  But… for us it’s 8 hours away.  Which means both DH & I having to take time off work.  And he’s so new at his job that it’s just not possible right now.

So I suppose it’s Clomid or nothing.

And hopefully…. hopefully we won’t have to worry about the “next” cycle…

I can’t believe it. I just looked at my chart. And you know what? I haven’t obsessed over my chart for TWO WEEKS. Two weeks people. That has to be a new World Record. I’m not kidding either… I was shocked to discover that I’m on CD14. When did that happen!!?? I gotta tell you, it feels good to not think about that stuff. Time flies much faster when you’re not obsessing.

I’m thankful, though, that I clued in now rather than later. Now I must get serious and BD like a crazy bunny (hmmm…that doesn’t paint a very pleasant picture, does it?).

[edit: for those of you wondering, I'm not concerned about missing O this month, because I don't ever O until at LEAST CD18]

Tonight after work I’ll stop by the store and pick up some OPKs. Yes, that sounds like a plan.

——————————————————————-

In other news… I feel like a really crappy friend. I told some friends that I would call yesterday to RSVP to their daughter’s birthday party (yesterday afternoon)….and I completely forgot. I am such. a. dummy. I wonder…if I buy her a pony, will they forgive me or hate me?

And it’s not just them. I also forgot to phone another friend of mine who had really wanted to hang out and talk (she’s going through a divorce). I said I would phone…and I didn’t. What the hell is wrong with me??!! It’s not as though I’m trying to piss off my friends, truly I’m not. I’ve just been… I don’t know. I’ve had a head full of (in)fertility thoughts (what to do next, when to stop trying, etc…) that everything else has just been pushed to the wayside.

And I know that’s a really shitty thing to do. I need to snap out of my funk and be there for my friends.

….so there we have it, folks. That’s my February resolution…be a better friend.

Not truly sure why I decided to blog.  Perhaps it’s because I have things I want to get off my chest, and can’t tell my husband, F.  Maybe it’s because I’m trying like hell to get pregnant, and need somewhere to vent when things don’t go my way.  It could even be due to the fact that I’ll be (ugh) forty years old this next weekend, and I’m scared to death that I won’t be able to conceive because of my bloody PCOS.  Yeppers – it could be any or all of the above. 

 Take for instance this past weekend… my OPK (ovulation predictor kit) finally showed something I’d never seen before… an LH surge, which meant I would ovulate within the next 24 to 48 hours.  When I went in for my ultrasound (u/s) that afternoon, I told the nurse of what I thought was my good news.  She said, “Really?  Eww… it didn’t look to me as if your eggs had gotten much bigger than the baseline at the start of your cycle… well, just in case you already ovulated, and the eggs were released, have sex tonight and tomorrow night, just to be on the safe side.”

So, vamplita goes home, with her marching orders in hand.  F and I knew that this would possibly be the night they’d want us to have sex.  He even took Friday and Saturday off, planning ahead.  (That hubby of mine is a definite Planner, folks.)  I get home and tell F, “Hey, good news… we’ll get to have sex, ’cause I’ve ovulated.”

This is the response I got:  “Ugh, I’m not feeling good, honey.  My stomach’s killing me.”  I’m thinking, great – that’s just frickin’ great.  I try not to show too much annoyance, thinking he’ll get over it, and, if necessary, “take one for the team”, right???  After all, he does understand that there’s only a damned small window of opportunity, right?  I know I explained it to him before this.  I again mentioned to him that we only had that Friday night and Saturday night to try to get my eggs fertilized with his swimmers.  “OK, ” was his response.

Do I even have to tell you that we didn’t have sex on Friday night?  Does that shock you?  It did me.  How many times have we had sex when I didn’t exactly feel up to it, but I did it because he wanted it, and I wanted to please him??  (Mind you, during those times, I’d wanted it too, but I wasn’t feeling well.)  God, I was pissed beyond pissed when I woke up the next day, without having had so much as a bloody grope.

 We did have sex the next night… make that 4AM Sunday morning, thankyouverymuch.  Guess who (again) didn’t feel well?  Guess who started watching (of all things) Godfather II on A&E?  Hardly a short cinematic event, now is it?  I watched it with him, but was sitting there in a nightshirt and nothing else.  You’d think that would’ve done something to make him want to have sex.  Oh, he mentioned taking a shower, but nope…no shower until the movie was over. 

Now, I’m not usually one to get down on her knees to pray to the good Lord above, but I did that Sunday morning before hubby got out of his shower.  I kept praying over and over the same words, “Please, God, let me get pregnant this time.”  I couldn’t help but think that perhaps F was dragging his feet out of some subconscious rebellion against having to have things so rigidly scheduled.  Maybe he resented not being able to father a child without medical intervention due to his wife’s irregular menstrual cycles; I don’t know. 

After we were finished with our babymaking session, I began to cry as I was laying there.  I was hoping so very fervently for fertilization to occur, in spite of what seemed to be my husband’s (subconscious) best efforts to sabotage us this month. 

It was so very important to me that we follow the doctor’s advice to a T, since I hadn’t experienced that clearly-defined a window of opportunity in over 15 years.  And here we were, barely following the directives given according to our deadline.  Hell yeah, I cried out of frustration, relief that we’d finally had sex, release of stress, quixotic hope that it might’ve worked this time.    

 Long story short?  If any of my (undersized) eggs were fertilized, it’ll be a bloody miracle, but I keep hoping…

I’ll find out for sure on the sixth of next month.  Keep your fingers crossed! 

Tonight DH & I went to a friend’s place for the weekly poker game.   Except that tonight I had to set across from a very pregnant woman – rubbing her belly lovingly all night long.

Let me be perfectly clear.  There is only ONE pregnant woman that I like.  UNO.  She is wonderful and I couldn’t be more happy for her (yes, that’s you Sam).  Anyone else?  Kindly leave me alone.  I feel as if (fertile) pregnant women everywhere are continually seeking me out… to kill what ever sanity I still had remaining.

I don’t want to see their pregnant bellies.  Or their happy faces.

Yes, I am miserable.  I am a bitter infertile, hear me roar!

Just had my shower… and dry-heaved the entire time.  What. The. Fuck.  I have never in my life threw up (or dry heaved) in the shower.  That is gross.  Good thing I didn’t have anything to eat before going in there…could’ve been hard to explain to DH “Uhhh… sorry hun.  Threw up in the shower.  No time to clean it up – gotta go to work, BYE!”  heehee..I think not…