Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Let's Talk About My Ovaries For Just A Minute


WARNING: This blog post includes references to menstruation and poop, along with foul language and other inappropriatenesses. You've been warned.

Here are some things you need to know about my lady business this month:

1. I totally ovulated.

2. I ovulated on April 11, 2013. This is the first time I've ever ovulated, to my knowledge.

3. I could tell from my temps that I probably ovulated, and then I went in yesterday for a blood test and I came home and I walked around in a circle for a while and then the nurse called and I stopped breathing and she said, "Your progesterone level is good." And I said, "I ovulated?" And she said, "Yup."

4. I feel like throwing a party, which is pretty lame considering ovulation is something most women just do without thinking about it or trying, like having a period and caring about split ends and loving Ryan Gosling. All the things you betches do as a matter of course.

5. But my ovulation was not a matter of course. It was a result of a laparoscopic operation in which holes were burned in my ovaries. That, and a pill called Clomid.

6. Because I am a military spouse and have insurance called Tricare which rules, my Clomid prescription - which includes five pills to be taken on cycle days five through nine - only costs $5 a month. That's $1 per pill, or about twenty-five cents per emotional meltdown.

7. If you read my most recent post, you know that Clomid causes copious amounts of blood to flow from ones vagina in a Cracker Barrel. It also causes one to strongly feel that ones life is worthless and all other humans are being profoundly insensitive to one. It also makes one a raging insane bitch who stops being angry about once every three hours for ones requisite cry.

8. I'm exaggerating a little, but only a little.

9. In any case, it all became worth it when I found out I ovulated. Now that I'm actually ovulating, I probably have just as much chance as anyone to get knocked up. Which is wonderful and fantastic.

10. It also means my Clomid dosage will not be doubled, a possibility I was profoundly dreading, for my sake and my poor husband's.

11. Unfortunately, the Clomid caused a mild case of OHSS: ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome. This happens when you not only ovulate, but ovulate HARD, so your abdomen fills with fluid when all the little follicles burst, and you get bloated and sick.

12. In severe cases it's dangerous. In mild cases, like mine, it's annoying. It involves a big bloated belly and - in my case - explosive diarrhea. It's come and gone for about eight days now. It may be a mild case of OHSS, but there is nothing mild about the hemorrhoids I am now sporting.

13. Whenever I start to feel sorry for myself, I look at my BBT (basal body temperature) chart, at the gorgeous red line that means "ovulation day," the line I have never seen on my chart before, and I don't care if I shit like a white trash family after a carnival for days on end. That's why God invented Gatorade.

14. I am now on CD (cycle day) 23, and 5 DPO (days post ovulation). I thought the Army had a lot of acronyms, but when you're TTC (trying to conceive) you find out that everything from cervical mucus to different pregnancy test brands have their own stupid acronyms.

15. For example, if I were to post on a forum (which I don't do, but I'll get to that in a second), "Guess what? This morning I took a home pregnancy test, and wouldn't you know it, I got a positive result!" I don't even know if the forum people would be able to read it. They expect this: "HPT this morning, and omg y'all: BFP!!!"

16. BFP is an acronym meaning "big freakin' positive" and federal law requires you to use it on TTC forums when referring to positive pregnancy results.

17. I google things sometimes and look at the forums, but I do not belong to any, because all that yearning and obsessing is negative energy and I don't need it. If you're into the forums, hey, more power to you. I'm glad somebody does it because it gives me results when I am googling things like "9 dpo sore nipples sulphur farts."

18. That's just a funny example. I've never googled that.*

19. The moral of this story: Clomid made me ovulate pretty hard, and I'm super stoked about it. If this isn't my month, I have five more on this little miracle pill, and at least I know it's working.

20. By the way, until we live in a glorious world where violent mood swings and diarrhea make you feel sexy, Clomid really is irony in a bottle. The pill that makes me ovulate also makes me the least sexually attractive creature on planet earth.

21. But that's my husband's problem, not mine. I make the eggs, he summons up the will to fertilize them. That's the deal.

22. Now for some more Gatorade.

*This is almost certainly a lie.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Sunday Bloody Sunday



This is what happened on Easter. It is full of things that will make you say "TMI," probably out loud. If frank discussions of lady plumbing mishaps annoy or disgust you, go live your important life and leave me be. We both know however, that your important life probably involves "Scrubs" reruns.

1. I'm taking a fertility drug called Clomid. It has many side effects. Some of them, like babies, are good. Others are not so good. So far the not-so-good ones are the ones I have.

2. Clomid makes me feel emotions. Emotions that only women know about, and usually during the pre-menstrual times. Emotions like "red-hot pissed," "enraged for no reason," "really sad for no reason," and "suddenly weeping."

3. I only have to take Clomid five days a month. And, ladies and gentlemen, five days a month is enough.

4. I take Clomid the week of and just after my period. So now here's how my month breaks down. Days 1-4: On my period. (Sucks.) Days 5-7: On Clomid and on my period. (SUCKS.) Days 8-9: On Clomid. (Sucks.) Days 10-20: The "fertile period," where I have sex a lot, worry if I'm ovulating or not, go to the doctor to have my progesterone checked, and begin to wonder if I'm knocked up. (Mostly sucks.). Days 21-28: Wonder if I'm knocked up. Take pregnancy tests. Dread my period. Also PMS. (SUCKS.) Repeat!

5. Easter was my third day of Clomid. I got up and I was so tired. But I put on something cute and we went to Mass and I saw Brett Favre.

6. I was kneeling. I had just taken Communion. I was praying and looking at the stained glass. I started looking at people. I saw this tall guy with broad shoulders in a light blue polo and I thought, "Damn, that's a big dude. He looks like a football player." Then I saw his face. It looked vaguely familiar.

7. Brett Favre looked at me. He was probably thinking, "You rude bitch. I'm trying to worship the Lord and you're staring." But I was just mildly smiling at him, and thinking, "He looks kind of familiar." His hair was very gray and his face was not shaved. Then just as he passed out of my field of vision, I said to myself, "That's Brett Fav-ruh." I watched him head for the side exit, dip his fingers in the holy water font, and disappear into the narthex. (Yes, he left before "the Mass is ended.")

8. I'm not what you'd call terribly knowledgeable about the sporting games, so I wouldn't have known who Brett Favre was at all if it weren't for There's Something About Mary.

9. It's sacrilege to say this around these parts, but I wouldn't know Drew Brees if he sat on my face.

10. Anyway after Mass my husband had this great idea: Cracker Barrel.

11. On the way in, I had a sudden panicky feeling and made my husband walk behind me and look at my buttal area to make sure there was no blood. There wasn't.

12. So I enjoyed my coffee and salad. (I know salad isn't breakfast. But I wanted a salad.) And then when we had eaten and were leaving, I told my husband to wait for me in ye olde country shoppe while I went to the bathroom.

13. In the bathroom, my crotch was full of blood. And there were four giant dark spots on the buttal area of my light brown skirt.

14. I texted my husband: "Abort mission. Meet me outside. Bled on m'self."

15. He met me outside. I got in the truck and cried. Because I thought this was over. I thought the ovarian drilling was gonna make everything cool. And now I am bleeding on myself in a Cracker Barrel.

16. I asked my husband if he tipped the waitress well and he said yes. Which is good because she probably had to clean up my vaginal blood.

17. We went home and I laid down and experienced lots of the Clomid emotions all at once: "enraged for no reason," "really sad for no reason," and "suddenly weeping," to name a few. My poor husband was mystified.

18. Then I had to (a) find something cute to wear since my cute Easter outfit was in the wash, and (b) make my famous loaded mashed potatoes and get re-dressed all in about 45 minutes, which caused me to experience another Clomid emotion (Clomotion?): "red-hot pissed."

19. I fought with my husband. I got red-hot pissed about iced tea. It was really dumb. That poor man. Then we went to Easter at his folks'. And it was good. There was ham. And the crazy bloodiness tapered off. And the next two days of Clomid were not that bad.

20. This pill better work. It makes me suddenly have cramps so violent I have to grip the kitchen counter. It makes me want to do nothing but sleep. Except at night, when I can't sleep because I'm nervous and have a headache. It makes me bleed. It makes me cry. It better for the love of God make me ovulate.

21. When I get pregnant, I'm going to punch in the face anyone who dares lecture me about the nobility of suffering. You can take your drug-free home birth and put it in your butt super hard. By the time I am knocked up I will have suffered for that baby. I have bled on myself inside the Capitol of the Hearty Country Breakfast after looking at Brett Favre. Sleepless nights, tears, pain, pills, doctor visits, ultrasounds, blood draws. About 200 hours spent online looking for tricks and explanations. Herbs and teas and OTC "miracles." Holes drilled in my ovaries.

22. I got nothin' else to prove.

23. There is no moral to this story. I had my period like a hoss on Easter Sunday while taking fertility drugs that make me crazy. That's it.

24. There is a happy ending: I had a nice Easter. I missed my family a lot. I wasn't able to go see them. But I spent the day with some of my new family, and ate some delicious food, including my loaded mashed potatoes, which fucking rule.

25. I also saw a beautiful baby get baptized. That was lovely. Hopefully by next Easter I'll be the one up there hoping my baby doesn't puke on the priest or hose down his christening gown.