Unsolicited Advice

I really don't know exactly what it is about the human race that causes us to need to give advice, but we all do it. We all want to be problem solvers specifically. I'm guilty of it too. Growing up, my nickname was "Mother Merritt"... I think it was in large part because I was a fixer. Tell me your problem and I'd find a solution, patch up the friendship, find you a date to the middle school dance, etc. Our advice and problem solving is usually well intentioned, but often times life would be better if we could all learn to zip our mouths. The more friends I have who gain the title of "Mom", the more stories I hear of rampant unsolicited advice. Neighbors, in-laws, mailmen, friends, cashiers, etc. give advice in the grocery store, at work, over Sunday dinner... it's really unavoidable.

Now I (obviously) don't deal with advice about Pampers vs cloth diapers, or sleep training, or temper tantrums, but unfortunately I often deal with unsolicited advice in terms of infertility. And the strange thing is that 99% of the time, I know it's from people who mean well and actually love us. Unfortunately, that's not always how it comes across. I wish people could hear their comments through my ears; hear what I hear.

There are always my favorite pieces of  advice, the old standbys such as "just relax," "take a vacation," or "just adopt; you'll be pregnant in no time." I'd like to take this moment and share a little public service announcement if I may. If your advice begins with "just," keep it to yourself. There is nothing simple about infertility, and the fact that some people think they can simplify it and solve it with "just ______" is not only frustrating, it's insulting. Think about it from this perspective: Imagine you own your own business, and you're in the red for the third quarter in a row. If a friend says "just relax," does that feel helpful? And as to a vacation... have mercy. I'm certainly willing to take anyone's advice if they are paying, but unfortunately we spent almost 40% of our income last year on medical expenses. That doesn't leave a lot of room for Cancun or Vail. Sad trombones. And as for the weird wives' tale that adoption leads to a pregnancy... goodness, don't get me started.  If that was really my intention, if the only reason I pursued adoption was so that I'd get pregnant, wow, let's just sum that up in one word: TERRIBLE. That is horrible advice, and I'd be a horrible person if I took it. Agreed?

Sometimes people have more "medically" related advice. These helpful people know of an herb or a tea or a pill that will fix me up in no time. Or I often hear from people encouraging me to overhaul my diet, eliminate all the food groups I actually like and eat brussel sprouts for the rest of my days because brussel sprouts (ick) have healing infertility properties or whatever the case may be. I'm never going to deny that eating healthier would benefit me... I'm pretty sure it would benefit anyone. However, I really don't think tea and kale are the cure to our infertility issues. Maybe I'm wrong, but I just don't. It's not that I don't want to hear about the magical pouch of joo joo or the wonders of lima beans... really, I'm not hating on being healthy. I simply don't want to be bombarded with "try this" or "have you thought about this?" constantly. No one wants to be judged: the fact that I ate three quarters of a container of Ben & Jerry's Salter Caramel Core ice cream doesn't mean I don't want  a baby bad enough... it means I just heard about a whole heck of a lot of babied made the old fashioned way.

The last category of people are, sadly, the ones for which I have the least patience. These are the well intentioned people who say things because they need to sound spiritual, or hate silence, want to be encouraging, etc. Phrases such as "give it to God," "pray about it," and "let God take control" just about push me over the edge these days. For the most part when someone shares advice like this in person, I try to steer the conversation elsewhere, and thus far, I have withheld my initial reaction which is to punch them in the face. If the comments come via Facebook, I contemplate deleting the person, but I typically just go eat a cookie. Here's the thing I wish I could get across; it's actually kind of Biblical: examine your own life with an equally fine toothed comb, before you make assumptions about someone else. I guarantee that we all have areas of our lives that we should pray about more or relinquish control of... that's the nature of being broken people with messy lives. But I would never point out another person's area... it's kind of the whole "plank in the eye" idea here. And again, the fact that someone assumes that Sam and I are not praying about our infertility or that we don't relinquish our hopes and dreams to the Lord, well, it's insulting. We should all just make this deal with one another: "I promise I won't point out your marriage problems, money issues, child rearing problems, medical issues, etc. and offer platitudes for solving all of YOUR problems, so I'd appreciate the same. Okay?" It's really that simple.

As I said, I'm 100% sure I used to be as guilty as the next person of offering "advice" in the name of helping. But once you have an area of your life where you regularly receive this type of aid, I guess you just grow more sensitive to it. It just gets old. There is one thing I've learned over the years and it's this: the thing about unsolicited advice, in all situations, is that it's all about the delivery of the advice. Believe me, I've had some friends and mentors sit me down over a yummy lunch or a nice cup of coffee and say some really hard things to me over the years. Things about not wasting my present season, things about loving my husband better, things about putting infertility treatments on hold until we got our finances in order... those things were HARD to hear. But it is so much easier to accept advice when it comes from someone willing to take the time to actually share why they feel that way.

If you REALLY think that your friend needs to try an herbal concoction, well take her to lunch, give her the tea, and tell her why you think it's awesome. Even if she thinks you're crazy, she can't fault you for caring enough to do all of that. That speaks love way more effectively than a comment on Facebook. In the same way, if you earnestly care about a friend, instead of offering a quick "let God take control," try a coffee date, and give her the opportunity to talk. You will have created much more fertile ground for your advice, and you can offer to pray for her rather than offer wisdom at her. I'm telling you, delivery makes all the difference.

In terms of infertility specifically, the internet is filled with blogs and websites that offer help if you're wondering what you should and should not say to your infertile friend or family. I myself did one way back when... check it out if you need some helpful hints on what to say when there are no words. There are a lot of things that should just not be said because they are really never, ever helpful. But there are a lot of things that exist in a more gray area, and it's all about the way you deliver it. I imagine that this principle can be extrapolated into pretty much any area. Mothers everywhere are nodding their heads as they remember the "advice" from the well-meaning neighbor who just had to share about the dangers of some toy she saw in the yard the other day. Delivery is everything people... if it's a burning need down deep in your soul to help, find an appropriate way to deliver your advice.Your relationships will be better for it.

Survivor's Guilt

First of all, a brief update: the Prohibition of All Things Yummy is off to a terrible wonderful start. I pretty much want to tackle people eating chocolate, I've questioned the sanity of locking lips with any individual drinking a diet coke (you know, just to taste it), and I'm having dreams about nice salty pita chips. I'd heard it was no fun to cut all the yumminess from your life, and I'll agree with that: ZERO FUN. However, I've also heard that things get easier, so I'm looking forward to that. We tried spaghetti squash on Sunday night, and while it wasn't disgusting, let's just say that my portion was much smaller than it would have been with real pasta. No yumminess = Automatic portion control. And I was dreaming of a delicious slice of garlic bread throughout dinner!

I thought the sweets would be the worst part because I have a major sweet tooth, but honestly, it's been the salty carbs... things that I don't actually eat all that often. I mentioned dreams of pita chips, but tortilla chips also sound AMAZING. And obviously the loss of Diet Coke is extreme and terrifying. One thing I've definitely discovered is that if I can't eat or drink things I enjoy, I tend to just not eat or drink. Monday night I felt terrible, and it occurred to me that I might be dehydrated. When I thought back through the day, I realized that I had had a smoothie for breakfast and then about 3 ounces of orange juice later in the day... those were the only liquids I consumed that day. I've been making a more dedicated effort to drink water throughout the day, but blegh, no thank you. I've decided I'm never going to sip water, I've just got to chug it.

I'm headed to Jacksonville tomorrow evening for an appointment at 9:30 on Friday morning. I'll get to briefly meet with Dr. Duffy while he's performing the saline sonohysterogram. I'll also meet with an IVF nurse to discuss our schedule, medications, and learn how to give injections. Sam's not coming, but my mom is, so at least two people will learn how to do injections. Afterwards I have a consult with an Acupuncturist. Hopefully I'll get a good feeling from her because I don't have a lot of time to meet with different people. Okay, further update coming after Friday's appointments.

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The title of this post seems strange even to me right now. How can I be experiencing survivor's guilt? I'm not a survivor yet. I'm no where near done with this journey. There is no guarantee that IVF in January will work. Heck, there is no guarantee that IVF at any time will work. And yet, I'm already feeling guilty. The doctors have all given me higher chances than what their clinic average is... Dr. Slayden at RBA gave us as high as 65-70% chance of success with one IVF. I don't think about those numbers often. It seems safer in my head to focus on the national average. I tell myself we have about a 40-45% chance of success. And yet, I'm still feeling cautiously optimistic.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I don't actually feel guilty about getting pregnant from of IVF as much as I feel guilty about even doing IVF. I think about all the women I know, all the stories I've heard, and it just seems strange that I'm moving ahead and they are not. It was about three months ago that I voiced something for the first time, but after speaking it out loud, I realized just how true it is. There are women whom I've formed friendships with, whom I love dearly, that I want to succeed more than I want myself to succeed. As the words came out of my mouth, I thought "that can't be true", but it is.

Aubrey was one of those women I was thinking of that night. Whether my husband likes it or not, he hears all about the women I've been blogging with the longest. He knows them by first name. I reminded him of everything Aubrey had been through, of what she was preparing to go through. I told him I didn't know how much more she and her husband could take. And then I told him that I wanted them to succeed with their first transfer at CCRM more than I wanted us to succeed. I'm over the moon for Aubrey and Nick... TWINS! I can't think of anyone who deserves the blessing of twins more than Aubrey! I'm so incredibly thankful she's made it this far, and I'm praying everything turns out perfectly for them!

Suzanne is the other woman I brought up that night. Suzanne had just texted me to let me know that the doctors were not cancelling her donor egg cycle despite a slow start. She relayed that the doctor had high hopes of retrieving 15-16 eggs. After the scare of a cancelled cycle, this was amazing news! It seemed like everything was finally going to come together for my sweet friend. I told Sam that I wanted a successful retrieval, fertilization, and embryo freeze for her so badly my stomach hurt. Suzanne had already been through to much; I told him it just wasn't fair that she would have to go through one more thing. And yet, Suzanne has had to go through several more things. The current bump in the road for them on this long, long journey is scar tissue, most likely from a D&C. I am brokenhearted for Suzanne and I feel terrible that she has another hurdle in this journey. It seems so incredibly unfair that I have the potential to be pregnant before her.

I know that pregnancy for a lot of infertile women comes with a lot of guilt. I've never wanted them to feel guilty. We're all trying to get pregnant; success should be celebrated! But I think I understand a little bit better why the pregnant women and new moms stop commenting and disappear from the blogs. Balancing the seesaw when you've got great news and your dear friend just received terrible news is hard. So, so, so hard. I honestly felt guilty that I even got my period on Saturday. Why should I get to move forward with IVF when Suzanne and so may other wonderful ladies are stuck?

I don't have an answer or a solution as to how to remove or alleviate the guilt for any of us. But I would encourage all of us to stick around, and to fight for the friendships we've created. The relationships formed through these awful journeys are worth the tough conversations and battling the seesaw of highs and lows!

I continue to be so incredibly thankful for this community! The fact that women who are just starting out on clomid or who are seeking adoption can come together with veterans of IVF to form this beautiful place is truly amazing! Thank you all for wishing me well as we finally start out on our very own IVF trail. It's been a very long time coming, and I have no idea where the path may lead, but I'm eternally thankful to have each of you along the journey with me!

My Last Supper

First of all, lets get a little housekeeping out of the way: I'm not pregnant. I know; I'm shocked as well. What this really means is this: I finally started a new cycle. Hallelujah! Sam said he's never seen me so excited to start my period! Haha! I really was so relieved! The good news is that I needed to start birth control pills by this Tuesday, and well, tonight with be pill number one... we made it! I'm still on track to start IVF THIS MONTH! It's kind of unbelievable and overwhelming! The closest thing I can associate it with was getting married. For us, IVF has been this long, long, crazy long journey of planning, saving, researching, and now that it's here... I can't really wrap my head around it yet.

The sad news about today, cycle day two, is this: I've had my last supper. Not literally, obviously. I do intend to eat dinner tonight, but for all intents and purposes, it feels like I've had my last supper. I'm not sure if I've ever even mentioned this on the blog before, but after doing a lot of research over the last few months, I've decided to cut carbs, sugar (I know sugar is a carb, but they are separate in my head), and caffeine as I prepare for and complete IVF. There is a lot of research out there that suggests that a low-carb diet can increase your chances of success... particularly if you have PCOS. Well, the verdict is still out on the PCOS debate, but I'm at least borderline PCOS, so I figure it can't hurt. Essentially, a low-carb diet helps to lower the presence of the male androgens in the body (like testosterone). Women who were able to lower their testosterone levels seem to have noticeably higher success rates... it seems to be an egg quality thing.

I admittedly have the taste buds of a twelve year old. You will never see me snacking on carrots, nope, just not happening. I actually only learned to eat salads within the last three years or so... yeah, I was serious when I said the taste buds never matured. As I've planned to cut the carbs from my life, I've noticed that I eat A LOT of carbohydrates. I mean I knew I was a big fan of pasta and rice and that I have a love affair with bread, but man oh man, there are a lot more carbs out there. So sad. No more pizza. No pasta. No chinese food because it's all rice and noodles. No mexican food because it's all tortillas. No cereal. No chips... and that's just the carbs.

I'm also cutting out all sweets. Lord, help me! My mom LOVES to bake, so I've grown up in a house where we constantly had yummy treats for absolutely no reason at all. She'll whip up a chocolate cake "just because" and never think twice about it. Now I don't like to bake, but I've definitely brought the dessert before after dinner mentality with me into adulthood. I'm not even sure I was really aware of the MASSIVE amounts of sweets I consumed until I started preparing to eliminate them... suddenly it seems like everything I eat is sweet. Ughhh!

The caffeine thing has more to do with Sam than me... meaning I don't really think cutting caffeine this early has any affect on IVF or pregnancy. Obviously I'd quit once we started IVF, but I'm cutting it out this early for two reasons. First, I don't drink black coffee, or coffee with cream for that matter. If I drink coffee, it's going to be delicious. (Thanks so much, Starbucks!) I have no desire to drink coffee that doesn't taste like dessert, so it's kind of pointless. My other caffeine friend is Diet Coke, and that relationship just ended (cue sad trombones) because of the artificial sweeteners. I'm also cutting caffeine now because I've asked Sam to do it. FIRM hasn't mentioned anything about eliminating caffeine, but I know CCRM occasionally requires it, so we're going with that in hopes that he'll have the best swimmers available in January (even if they don't have to swim).

In preparation for Prohibition of Yumminess, I've been consuming everything I love like a ravenous beast. I've drawn comparisons to hibernation... need to build up my stores of goodness before all the good stuff is gone. But like a bear, I'm pretty sure I've packed on a few pounds for the upcoming shortage. Let's agree to label this "IVF weight", okay? Seems fair to me.

So yesterday when I woke up to see that I had indeed started, I clued Sam into the end of all goodness. We had already planned to go out with a bang... I'm fairly sure we accomplished this. I went to a local Athens favorite with my small group of college girls that I lead. Mama's Boy did not disappoint my need for carbs and sugar.

Georgia Peach French Toast- yum!

I stopped after breakfast to get my prescription for birth control filled (free!) and decided that I needed just a little more Diet Coke before it was over... Sam and I have officially finished the two liter. Most delicious drink ever created! And for dinner, my request was pizza. I had originally intended to go somewhere downtown for some yummy pizza, but that was before I remembered why I hate my period. Blah... I spent the day in PJs, so we ordered pizza from Papa John's.

Papa John's Pizza- good bye carb heaven

And now the day of stuffing my face is over... the last supper has been eaten. If you can tell, I'm already lamenting the loss of every food and beverage I actually like. But if it helps in any way to improve my egg quality or raise our chances for IVF it will be SO worth it. At the very least, it can't hurt, and I want to leave Florida saying that I have no regrets and that I did everything I could!

Tomorrow morning I'll call FIRM to schedule my appointment and let them know that we are ready to move forward... it's getting real!

#failing

I don't tweet, or twitter, or tweeter, or twit. (And no, I don't know how to conjugate this new pastime correctly.) But I'm fairly certain that #failing lets everyone know that myself, a place, or a thing has gone horribly wrong. Now what you are supposed to do with the information from there, I have no idea. But essentially, this particular hashtag could describe my life. Yep, I'm failing at life.

Now of course there is the super obvious ways I'm failing: failing at conception, failing at pregnancy, failing at motherdom, etc. But this goes WAY beyond that. Do you ever think about all the things you should be doing? Do you get overwhelmed? I do. I've never understood how I could possibly be even mediocre at everything, let alone excellent. Take for example the grocery store. Seems simple. Buy food. Take it home. Cook, eat, repeat. But man, oh man, it's SO MUCH MORE COMPLICATED. See, I know, for instance, that I'm supposed to eat healthy... organic fruits and veggies, hormone free milk, free range chicken, grass-fed beef, etc. But there's another whole side to the grocery store and that's called the budget. The current budget barely supports chicken, let alone chicken for SIX DOLLARS PER POUND. The budget does not have room for organic everything. I'm not saying that I don't understand why organic is more expensive, (just ask Erika, she's dealing with the world's largest worms) I'm saying I can't double the grocery budget to allow for all of this stuff AND save for IVF at the same time (well, I guess I could, but I'd also be forty by the time we got there). You see what I mean? Something has got to give! Either the budget's happy with all the processed goodness that coupons can buy or the body is happy with all the healthy quinoa, tofu, and organic eggplant available. It can't be both.

Let's look at another example, shall we? So yea, we should all exercise. Mm, hmm.Yep. We all agree. Apparently we should exercise for 30 minutes FIVE days a week. Blaghh! I'll skip the eight hundred reasons I haven't exercised lately (rain, more rain, 100% humidity, no gym membership) and be real honest... I'm lucky if I get the dishes washed. Actually, my husband is lucky if I get the dishes washed. Between work, the other work, researching IVF like it's a full time job, and just regular boring old life, I'm normally "done" for the day at about 8pm at which point I can decide to A- go exercise, B- go wash dishes, C- do a load of laundry, or D- say to hell with it all. I pick D a lot. There's a pile of laundry on my couch that's been there since Monday (shhh... don't tell my mom).

I'm not really trying to gripe about my life... life is really great these days. I'm just struggling with the idea of sucking at adult life. I was really, really good at pre-adult life. My mom may argue, but I'm pretty sure I ROCKED as a baby. And I'm confident I excelled at childhood. My teachers loved me, I loved school, I was awesome at everything (except sports, but hey, nobody's perfect). I was pretty awesome at college too. I wasn't stellar at the extracurricular part of it... no sororities, no clubs, no stereotypical college stories to reminisce over later in life, but academically- nailed it, athletic participation via spectatorship- yep, all over that, finding the love of my life-check. It's this whole grown up thing that I'm not sure I'm cut out for. Balancing the checkbook, sticking to the budget, cleaning house, laundry, preparing meals... I'm failing at that stuff. Adult life seems to be all about restriction and worrying about everything. Got to get rid of all plastics because of BPA, got to get rid of all non-stick cookwear because Teflon might make me more infertile, got to recycle and buy green cleaning products because we've got to save the earth, got to use crazy expensive/less effective health and beauty products because of all those chemicals, etc. Adult life is all about cholesterol, and BMI; 8 hours of sleep, and staying active; saving for retirement, and paying off debt. #failing at all of the above

And you know what the kicker is... I don't even have any kids. I'm fully aware that my mom friends are infinitely more busy and tired than I am. And why wouldn't they be? They have an additional mouth to feed out of the same budget because no one gives raises for expanding your family. And they have to worry about sleep schedules, BPA free bottles, organic baby food, and cloth diapers. They've got to deal with carpool, and daycare, homework and reading logs. I'm failing at my small, little, unfit for Twitter life, and yet, I'm hoping it gets a whole lot worse. 

Anybody #winning at life these days?

Deep Clean

My doctor's appointment with my RE is ten days away or less. Assuming that I either A- start a new cycle, or B- look good enough to start meds, we could potentially be starting our fourth IUI cycle in less than two weeks. My feelings on that are not the subject for this post (another day), but rather I'd like to discuss the current health of my body.

As I sit here sipping my full flavor, full fat, caffeinated Caramel Macchiato, I'm further convicted that my body is probably not in prime baby making condition. Sure, I realize that some 87% of women make babies just fine without ever cutting calories, or caffeine, or heck, even alcohol. Alas, that is not my lot in life. For over a year, I've been trying to live the straight and narrow. The hardest thing of course has been the break in my diet coke love affair. 

However, this past month, I've been TERRIBLE! Oh my gosh! My nurse said that we should not try to get pregnant this month due to the surgery, and oh my goodness, I took that to heart! I've indulged myself in lots of diet coke! I've even had a couple of Dr. Peppers. I've had more coffee in the last four weeks than in the previous year! Add in the awful eating habits that come with multiple graduation parties PLUS the continuous take-out due to an empty fridge from the move, and well, I'm pretty sure I could eat celery alone for a month and still not have made up for it all (which I don't eat celery, unless of course it's in Thanksgiving stuffing).

So here's the thing, for some unexplainable reason, I tend to think of the start of each cycle as a clean start. If I messed up more than I wanted in the previous cycle, I feel like I've got a clean slate when the new cycle starts. Is this medically accurate? Does menstruation actually cleanse a woman of more than old uterine lining? Probably not, but that's how I feel. So the thought of NOT starting a new cycle, of marching ahead with an IUI with all of this terribleness in my body... well, lets just say its not helping my outlook on the success of IUI#4. 

The truth is probably that my period does nothing, and that if I'm going to worry about the condition of body, I should worry regardless of if I end up starting a new cycle or not. So I'm appealing to all of my readers: if you have safe, healthy advice for cleansing the body, detoxing, whatever you might want to call it, leave me a comment. You don't have to be infertile... I'm not looking for the secret to miracle conception or anything (well actually, I AM looking for that, so if you know that secret, MAKE SURE you leave a comment). Or if you feel like you are a guru on all things vitamin, supplement, etc and you just love what x, y, and z do for your body, then by all means, share your knowledge.

Insurance Headaches

When I start my new job, I'll drop the super expensive coverage I've maintained through COBRA for the last 8 months and move to the coverage offered by my employer. It's a different insurance provider, different policy, different everything. I'm not sure what my infertility coverage might be, but I doubt it's more than what I currently have, which is diagnostics only. But regardless of what the coverage is, I'm afraid that they won't cover anything because of the whole "pre-existing condition" thing. Now, as far as IVF and further treatment, I'm not concerned because, well, they can't cover less than nothing, and that's what my current insurance policy will cover. But what I am afraid of it this: I'm concerned that as we approach IVF or after IVF fails, my doctor will ask for additional tests. As we can all attest, lab work can be crazy expensive, so I'd like to preempt this scenario by asking for any tests at my appointment on Monday.

So give me some feedback: What have you had tested? What test do you want? Is there a test that was a game changer for you?

This is what I've had tested thus far:

Hormones:

• AMH- 5.7, 2.54, 4.3
• FSH- 5.9, 8.1
• LH
• prolactin- 15.55, 15.0, 12.6
• testosterone- 28.91, 31.5
• TSH- 1.75, 2.34, 1.99
• Estradiol

Clotting Disorders:

• Factor V Leiden
• Anticardiolipin
• Homocystine Plasma
• Protein S Panel
• Antithrombin III
• Protein C Deficiency

General Health:

• blood counts
• thyroid function
• liver function
• kidney function
• cholesterol
• blood sugar
• vitamin D levels
• iron levels

Infectious Diseases:

• Hepatitis B
• Hepatitis C
• HIV
• Rapid Plasma Reagin (syphilis) 
• Rubella

Genetic Testing:

• Cystic Fibrosis
• Fragile X Syndrome
• Alpha-Thalassemia
• Beta- Thalassemia
• Sickle Cell
• Canavan Disease
• Familial Dysautonomia
• Tay-Sachs Disease

Miscellaneous:

• Hysterosalpingogram
• Chlamydia antibodies
• CA-125- 39.6

Pause

Do you ever feel like your life is paused? Like the screen is frozen in the most awkward moment? You know that if you could just find the dang remote and press play you could get that awful look off your face and relax.

Ugly face moment from NBC's Do No Harm.
Poor guy, I think he's really intelligent, but he looks quite dumb here.

That's how I feel. My life is stuck on pause and I lost the remote (or Sterling ate it). I've realized lately that I've pretty much stopped living. Literally, the only thing that gets me out of the house is church on Sundays and my small group one night a week. There are soooooo many things that I want to do, but for one reason or another, I don't.

Take running for example. Once upon a time, a long, long time ago I trained for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-Day. The training sucked a lot. But my mom, the slave driver equivalent to Jillian Michaels had me scared out of my mind. So I trained, and I trained. I was in such good shape by the time the 3-Day actually arrived that the 60(ish) miles in 3 days was actually easier than the first 10 mile training walk. Now, I didn't lose a pound during all of that training, but Sam lost like a gazillion. It was disgusting. So, whenever we get really frustrated with ourselves, we say that we should train for something. Training = motivation. Sam always wants to run. Now, I can't run… like at all. But I figure, I couldn't walk 10 miles at first either. So running sounds ultra hard, but plausible. And then the fear sets in. What if, by some insane miracle, I got pregnant, didn't know it, and went for a run, and well, you know where this is going… What if running caused a miscarriage? I would NEVER get over it. Ever.

The same can be said for Zumba. Zumba looks fun(ish). If I had a partner in crime who was equally uncoordinated and new to Zumba, if we went out and bought new workout attire like Erika recommends, and if we stayed waaaaayyyyy in the back, then Zumba might help get rid of these extra pounds I'm carrying around. But then I think, "what if I bounced my baby loose?". See what goes on inside of this head? It's not fun, I tell you.

Then there is the financial aspect of living. The original plan was to buy a house this year. Sooner rather than later. We figure we got dealt a pretty crappy hand as far as graduating in the middle of a recession, but as far as the housing market goes… it couldn't really be better. We wanted to take advantage now, while a mortgage payment is actually less than rent, rather than miss the boat and watch home ownership sail ten years out of the picture. But that was the plan before we learned that becoming parents was going to cost us BIG bucks. I don't know how to be a home owner and a mom on the same budget. So if I have to choose, well owning a home is possible at 40, while getting this lady pregnant is probably, well, not.

And as far as posterity goes, my plan was to document our life really well with beautiful photos. I've wanted professional photos of us for over a year. I look like a moron 99% of the time in photos, but people like Chris + Allie can make just about anything beautiful. Here's proof:

Engagement photo of Sam and I in Fall of 2009.
All the credit goes to the*Reason for making me look lovely.

See what I mean? I'd love a photo session, but I keep holding out expecting to need maternity photos before too long. Plus, I feel guilty paying for photos of just us.

The pause on life is literally at all levels. When I really thought pregnancy was right around the corner, I wouldn't let myself buy any clothes because obviously I was about to have to buy a whole new wardrobe to fit my baby bump. I've slacked a bit here because everything I'm buying now is larger and therefore more likely to last into a pregnancy, but still the thoughts are there.

Sam and I planned to go on some great vacations. I thought maybe our five year anniversary would be somewhere fabulous like Hawaii or Europe. But we would need to start saving soon to pull off a trip like that sans credit cards. But lets get real, there is at least $15,000 needed before the Hawaii fund gets started, so that will probably never happen.

As far as jobs go, I delayed applying for jobs initially because I didn't want to have to deal with a new employer who wouldn't let me off for an appointment. Plus, I didn't want to have to explain what I was doing or where I was going all the time to a new boss. I figured that there weren't too many employers out there that would be very excited for a new employee who was trying super desperately to get knocked up.

I'm not happy in any way with this pause in my life. I'm so ready to move on, try new things, reach a new status in life. Of course, I'd really like to fast forward a bit, but normal speed would be much better than this stalled out, frozen thing I've got going on. As you may have surmised from the pitiful post from the other night, we are done with medically assisted trying to conceive for a while now. With that HUGE chunk of my life missing, I've got to figure out how to live again. There HAS TO BE joy in the waiting, you know?

Anybody else, fertile or infertile, ever feel like somebody pushed pause on the movie of your life? Did you ever find the remote? Are you still paused or playing away?

Shifting Body Image

Let me first start out by saying that recently I have been reminded over and over again that my audience is not necessarily female. Allow me to clarify: boys, males, men, whatever you want to call them, members of the opposite sex, other than my husband read this. It shocks me every time! So with this in mind, I feel like I need to offer disclaimers if the post is edging towards female friendly areas. If the title of the this post didn't scare you fellas away, let me tell you straight up; I'm about to talk about weight gain, bra sizes, etc. Now, with that said, feel free to read on.

Let's just get this over with: I'm gaining weight. Ughhhh. I'm not going to talk scale numbers here, because everyone's ideal number is different. And the specific number isn't the point, it's the changes that are occurring. Since I started hanging out with Sam in 2005, I've gained 25% of my then weight. Now, let me be real honest here; I was underweight then. It was my freshman year in college. I was waaayyy to poor to eat out, none of my friends lived anywhere near me on campus, and I only had a microwave in the apartment. It wasn't unusual for me to eat lunch on campus and then skip dinner for some snacks around the apartment instead of going out to eat alone or riding the lovely campus buses for 20 minutes to eat with friends. In addition, my high school romance had ended; food wasn't my highest priority.

The bigger issue is that since marrying Sam, in 2010 mind you, I've gained 16%. Meaning take my weight on my wedding day and add 16% to that and you will find my current weight. It's been just over two and a half years. I couldn't fit into my wedding dress if I had 10 pairs of spanx, a corset, and a team of helpers. Seems kind of rapid to me. Where did this weight come from? I have some hunches:

• I married a foodie. I'm cool with cereal for dinner. My husband's favorite store in the mall is Williams & Sonoma. I would never cook for one. He makes himself crazy complicated breakfast and lunch dishes all of the time. He also thinks that because I can eat as much as him means that I should. 

• I'm getting older. I thought this was something that happens at 40 or 50, but maybe 26 is the new 40. Maybe my metabolism took a nosedive a smidge earlier than I anticipated. 

• Sedentary life. In college I sat a lot. Classes, art projects, bus rides, basketball games… but I at least walked some. I had to get my butt around campus, and sometimes, at UGA, it's honestly easier to walk then wait for Orbit. But post college, what jobs I have had consisted of sitting allllll daayyyyy. And being jobless is not as motivating to hit the elliptical as you might think.

• Infertility. I don't honestly know what, if any, effect the medications I've taken have had. Most of the weight was already there, but lots of people say that fertility medications cause weight gain.

• Depression. It's a vicious cycle. You eat because you're bummed, then you're bummed because you're jeans don't fit, so you eat. I've noticed that I tend to give myself free reign after my period starts. Want a whole box of Publix chocolate chip cookies, Amanda? Go ahead, you deserve it. You're life is pathetic and you're uterus hates you. And then I also indulge in Starbucks, and cake, and brownies, and ice cream. You get the picture.

What a lot of people don't know about me is that I was heavy before. I was always a very thin child, but in middle school I was dealing with a lot of depression and I was put on some medication. I put on thirty pounds in one summer. Before I knew it, I was about sixty pounds heavier. Needless to say, I went off the medication; it was obviously not the right one for me. But the weight loss took a lot longer than the weight gain. High school was a pretty crazy transformation. I went to my freshman homecoming dance in a size 10 and my senior prom in a size 2. 

After losing the weight, I really did NOTHING to manage it. I ate what I wanted when I wanted it, and I had no changes in weight. I was one of those girls. I put on a few pounds after freshman year when happiness returned to my life, but after that I stayed the exact same for years (and years), And then BAM! My clothes don't fit, the scale is broken, and my body looks way different than I remember.

Last week, as I was getting dressed and trying to shove my boobs into my bra, Sam noticed it was a bit too much of a task. Sam said, "I think you need a new bra". Ummm… no I don't. I've been the same size for 10 years. Believe me, these girls don't change. I looked in the mirror. Ewwww, I have side boob. And my girls barely fit within the confines. Okay, so maybe I do need a new bra. 

Armed with thirty dollars in coupons, I headed to Victoria's Secret. I found the cheapest bra I could and snatched one in a larger size: one cup size up. Upon entering the dressing room, I changed bras, but I barely looked any different. Right about then, one of those pesky ladies with a tape measure around their necks knocked. I poked my head out to ask if this bra runs small. "No, can I take a peek?" she asks. Sure why not, it's just boobs. Half of Atlanta has seem my hoo-haa. She comes in and says, "well, I think we need a few more inches". So let me get this straight, not only do I need a larger cup, but more inches too? I tried in on, and voilà, no more side boob. Squishy back fat was minimized as well. I was sorely tempted to replace all of my too small bras with comfortable options, but then I realized that I am not okay with this gradual increase in pants size, bra size, scale display. My body is changing, and while it's not drastic, I know that as my body shifts, my body image can too. It's time to head this thing off before it gets out of control.

I got all amped up to lose allllll these pesky pounds, and then I remembered a BMI index sheet from one of my doctors. It is a generic sheet telling you where you should be as far as BMI for optimal fertility. It also explains at which points they will refuse medications or other procedures. I found my height, and yep, I'm in the "healthy BMI". I looked across the chart at the lowest possibility, and well, it's more than my initial goal. For my height, they don't want me to weigh less than 132 pounds. So that's my goal. I don't know what size of pants or bra I'll be at that weight, but after my mom's bake a hundred sweets a day season, I'm on a mission to safely and wisely lose 9% of my current body weight. Stay tuned for future posts about how this is to be accomplished.