We are grounded from TTC.
We went in today for our clearance US so we could start Clomid tomorrow night and it did not go according to plan (but really, when have my US's ever gone according to plan?).
There is a cyst on my right ovary that is dangerously large (thanks, PCOS). It is not safe for us to start Clomid this cycle. Instead, I have to take a really high, high level of progesterone (Aygestin) to basically shut my ovaries down so they can repair the cyst that is trying to over take the right side.
I'm really pissed. I feel like my faith is standing on shifting sand right now. I know, deep down, there is a plan for us that is so much bigger than I could ever imagine, but right now, it's hard to grasp that.
I'm pissy at everyone because I am so overextended in every aspect of my life right now (oh, and a fun side effect of this medication: it makes you super bitchy. awesome.). If one more person tells me to "just take a day off" I am going to murder them (not really). WHEN am I supposed to take a day off? When I have the opportunity to take some time to myself, floors needing to be mopped, or groceries need to be bought or I have another 983989 Dr appointments scheduled for that day. I can't just blow my job off because I have families who depend on me to provide services for their child(ren). They need me more than I need an hour to myself.
So here comes the disclaimer: MOM(both of ours)-Stop Reading Now. I know you get your feelings hurt and I am not writing what I am about to write to hurt your feelings or attack you. We love you both, but I (Cate) need to get this off my chest.
It's hard to have a mother who is also a nurse. Both of our mom's are nurses. My mom works on the floor and Ben's mom is a surgical assistant and teaches nursing at a local college. They are both amazing at what they do and are such a blessing to have when we need to know what to take for a cold or what to do when one of us is sick. However, it is hard for them (in both of our opinions) to kick out of "being a nurse". So when we call them when we leave a Dr's appointment, they immediately kick into "what can I tell them from a health field perspective" instead of just being our mom's. Sometimes all we (and I emphasize the we in this sentence- I do not want anything that is being said here to be twisted or misconstrued) want is for our mom's to just say "I'm sorry. That really sucks." or "I'm sorry. I'll pray extra hard for you." Honestly, that is all we want from anyone. And our mom's have been great. They are praying for us and they do love us and I know being a nurse is just want comes first to them when dealing with medical crap but sometimes you just want your mom to be your mom.
And blogging about all of our issues is a double edged sword. As I said before, I blog for totally selfish reasons. I blog so I will have something to look back on to remember our journey to become parents. But I also do it for a million other reasons. But it comes with a cost.
On one hand, I feel like IF is nothing to be ashamed of. I don't want to hide under a rock (well...sometimes I do) and pretend we are perfect and these issues don't affect us. Before we really started TTC, I was 100% clueless about how common IF/MC/Pregnancy Loss are. They are real issues. I hope that our story will someday serve as inspiration for another couple headed down the same path we are currently on. I also think it gives those who don't know anything about IF or didn't have any trouble TTC insight as to what it is like to be on the other side (not so that they feel guilty, but so that they appreciate how easy it was for them, I suppose). I love blogging. I have received great feedback and support that I couldn't find anywhere else from being so public with our story. I can't imagine ever quitting my blog.
But on the other hand, everything you say is out there, for anyone who wants to read it can do so. You leave yourself open to judgment, criticism and being the subject of gossip among those who only know you based on what they read on an Internet web page. You lose your privacy. Everyone knows our story now. People assume since you write about it on your blog, they have the right to ask you about it whenever they feel like it. Some days, I don't want to talk about it. Some days I don't want to be the girl dealing with IF or the couple that gets the "sad face" when we see people we haven't seen in a while who now know we are dealing with IF (some of you know the face I am talking about). Some days I just want to be Cate. I just want to be 25. I just want to be a Developmental Specialist who loves her job. I just want to be Ben's wife. I just want to be madly obsessed with our dogs. I just want to be anything but the poster child for IF in someones life.
But I can't stop now. It's already out there. Do I regret starting this blog? No, not for a minute. Do I wish I had filtered myself more at certain points? No, I wrote exactly what I was feeling at the moment. Do I wish I could have some sort of billboard that I wore around that says either "Yes, Ask me about IF!" or "I'm really bitter and sad today, so don't mention babies or pregnancy or TTC" depending on my mood? Yes, but it would definitely clash with most of my wardrobe so it's not an option. I just wish I could pick and choose who gets to read what, which is also not an option. It's all or nothing, so for right now, I am choosing the "all" option. Moving to a private blog has crossed my mind several times, but I know there are some who aren't "Followers" who read this who would get left behind in the move, I know my blog is found through Google often and has the potential to be a great source of information and insight for some and I don't feel as though I should have to move to a private place to be able to talk about our life. So public it remains until further notice.
Obviously this turned into a blog that is much longer than I initially intended it to be. If you made it this far, Congrats! You must have a lot of free time (can I have some?)! If you pray, please keep us in mind. This is such a test of faith for us and I feel myself slipping more often than I care to admit.
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