Clomid and Comedy

As we go through infertility treatments, we get a lot of questions. Those don’t bother me. In fact, I would rather be open about it. However, it can and will get used against you. My fertility specialist Dr. S. put me on the hormone Clomid in the California summer heat wave. One of the side effects besides regular PMS is hot flashes. I could tell if the temperature was over 72° Fahrenheit. I certainly was moody but working with a bunch of women who also get PMS, I was the only one who got the blame. Any work tiff or squabble was my entire fault. I was on hormones; it wasn’t them. I didn’t have to say much either. Mistake on paperwork? She’s hormonal. Say something wrong, it’s your hormones. Mad because I disrespected your workspace? Must be the Clomid. People will ask about your condition and journey but please, don’t give them ammunition to blame everything on you. Any little issue with ineptitude, well, missy you just can’t discuss it because you’re hormonal and you usually would be able to tolerate it. Do not dismiss people’s ability to avoid accountability.

           
You and your partner’s genitals will also be judged. Everyone assumes that it is a woman’s problem. Not that I want people passing judgment on my husband’s junk either. When people meet you one of the first questions they ask is “do you have kids?” if you are not a rocket scientist they will want to know why. My great-aunt actually asked me in the middle of a painful family baby shower if I got regular periods! Talk about TMI! I let her know that I have no issues with my body. So she pressed and pressed. Finally, I just asked how many periods she has.

            
I was also told by my aunt Maddie, that she knew when I was a baby, that I was going to have a difficult time getting pregnant. Why? Because my mother suffered from endometriosis. It took her a full year to get pregnant. When her and my father decided to go seek medical help they found out they were expecting me. I was not that lucky. I was hurt that I was being judged so severely at a young age when I was never a factor. My cycle is clockwork. In my teen years, I did have a very heavy flow and did need to see a doctor, but nothing that would indicate pregnancy issues. My cousin had her appendix burst when she was young. Her fallopian tubes were damaged in the process. She had no choice but to go the IVF route. I have no such history. But again, I’m the one on hormones and Maddie could never be insensitive, right?

            
I did and still do have my moments of craziness but mostly by myself. Going through fertility treatments is insane. Albert Einstein said, “the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”. That is infertility treatments in a nutshell; and menstruation is how you know that your efforts are in vain. One day, on a particularly heavy start to my period; I found out that Walgreen's, Target and Wall-Mart do not carry my particular brand of tampons in “your uterus just exploded” size. These were available on-line only. Just what every bleeding girl wants to hear, on-line order only. Okay? Where are the adult diapers!? I had to hide the ugly cry in the store. I called my husband hysterically crying. I had to go to my fourth store that day, CVS which was my only hope and I am forever grateful to them. If anything, this journey will give them my repeat business.

            
Did I mention aunt Maddie called me each day to find out if I was pregnant? Most of her conversations started with “hi, are you pregnant yet?” this was ok, just not 48 days in a row.  This leads to answers like “no, I’m still on my period” or “I’m not ovulating yet”. Or better yet, I learned to let it go to voice mail. The problem with being open is that you will get feedback good and bad, the downside is holding everything inside.  

  

© All original content copyright Nancy De Lazzaro Brannum, 2013-2013

Our Insurance referal

It takes six months for full recovery of the vericosele that Randy had undergone.  They will not work on the pair together.  So that puts us at a full year of behind if he has both fixed. This is why it is so important for men to get tested. Men! Go get tested! Take yourself out on a date, buy yourself lunch, supersize it because you know you are a sure thing for you. If my husband had gotten tested after three months of us trying, he would have saved us from me taking 150mg of Clomid, which is evil when mixed with the California heat in August. Dr. W put me on that dosage. Many studies suggest that this dosage is dangerous because the uterus lining is weakened.  Some of the many side effects of Clomid are the ability to cry at random things constantly, raging hate, hot flashes, and the inability to control oneself with the proper serving size of Del Taco brownie bites. So men, please shake a leg. Literally!

While we are in this recovery process, we have been referred to Dr. L. He is our fertility specialist. At our first appointment, I sat in the lobby with Randy and looked at the two other couples. In my head, I felt so sorry for them. Then the realization hit me. I am in this office too! They may get pregnant in the future and I may not. Seeing other patient’s is not a problem though, Dr. L is like a dragon mom. His staff knows that he likes his alone time with patients. Spacing is normally timed perfectly, so you don’t ever see anyone; except when your body changes things up a bit for ovulation or cycles. At some point, everything is so sanitary and sterile. I felt that the office staff was going to dress up like Effie Trinket from the movie The Hunger Games and say “May the odds be ever in your favor.” This actually may have been good to ease up of the feeling of being a lab rat.

This man would get to know my vagina very well, but first things first Randy I need to get several blood tests. Then we proceed with a plan for In Utero Insemination (IUI).  For those who have not gone through the IUI process, I will explain. My experience was only with Dr. L though and may vary for other doctors. I was to call him my first day of my period. Then I would have an appointment before day 3. I would have a vaginal ultrasound and receive a prescription for Clomid which I was to start day 3. I would also have a second vaginal ultrasound on day 9. I learned very quickly to take an ovulation test with me because Dr. L would ask. Depending on the results I would get a shot, or have to have my husband give me a shot. I forget the name of the shout, but it would help me ovulate in the next 36 hours and we would schedule our insemination.  

Now this part can be a little tricky. Hubby needs to get his semen in the cup, and we need to deliver the specimen to Dr. L so he can clean it up. I do not know if there is a requirement for helping your husband in this situation, but if there is, I failed miserably. I know this may be selfish, but I was nervous and he has been able to "handle himself" for 38 years. I did not feel the need to be there. And he does have 37 years of his own personal experience. I did not know what to expect at the doctor’s, and it was really just putting pressure on me. I did not know if I would be sore or if I would hurt from the insemination. No, it doesn’t hurt. I was a little sore but nothing I could not handle. According to my doctor’s staff, many women over exaggerate making the process difficult. Ladies! It does not hurt any more than a baby coming out of your vagina! And furthermore, that is your ultimate goal! Man up!

© All original content copyright Nancy De Lazzaro Brannum, 2013-2013

Mothers Day 2013

         

Mother’s Day. All fertility challenged women dread this day. Anyone who has lost their mother also dreads this day. Hallmark doesn’t make a “losing your mother sucks” or a “Sorry your gas is not a baby” card.

           
I got stuck with the double whammy. No, my mother is alive and in reasonable health for her age. I just don’t know where that is. No, I am not adopted either. My mother just followed the same instincts birds have. Kick your offspring’s behind out of the nest and learn to fly. She could be a little cruel when I was young. Many people have said my mother was so sweet. Well just to them. I got none of that. Maybe that lack of affection was because I look like my father more? Maybe because she just did not want to be a mother? She must have had some type of postpartum depression. My Grandmother and Aunt Mary took her place as maternal roles. I am grateful that my mother let them. Many times they witnessed her being down right cruel. Had it not been for them, I may have become one of those sad headlines where some disturbed mother drowns her kid in the bathtub.

           
So here we are today. As I type this; I have just gotten news that should make me happy but it doesn’t. My first cousins wife is pregnant. This will be their first boy. They have three beautiful girls too. I thought I would take this new alright, but I was wrong. I wish I would have been told privately.  Instead I found out as just facebook friend; crying on my keyboard. The worst self-loathing comes from knowing how selfish it is for being jealous over two people creating another out of their own genitals. In my large family, I guess I can expect the pregnancies to be many. This is a second cousin who unintentionally rubbed my nose in figurative infertility.

I desperately want to cling to a family of mine and my husband’s design. Start our own family traditions. I love my acquired nieces and nephews, but I want to braid my own daughter’s hair and take my own son to soccer. This may not ever happen. The words of others like “it will happen someday”, “just relax” or my personal favorite “God has a plan for you” doesn't ease my pain. It may never happen. No amount of relaxation will make my husband’s count different. If God has a plan, how come there are so many unplanned pregnancies (don’t diminish my hope in God; it’s one of the only hopes I have left)? So for any of your friend's, who don’t have kids or a mother; think about maybe giving them a “you are special to me” card. It will be appreciated more than you know.

As for me; I assume that my wonderful husband will get me some sort of card from my two cute cats. I will spend mother’s day at the day spa, massaging other people’s mothers and giving them facials. I make sure my friends who are single mothers and those who have lost their mothers know I am thinking of them. I will make dinner for my mother-in-law and send it with my husband off her way to spend the day with her. I do not want him dividing time that should be hers for this one day; I have him all the time. And I dream that one day I will have children to spend this one day with me.

© All original content copyright Nancy De Lazzaro Brannum, 2013-2013

Randy's doctor visits and surgery

After our trip to the Gyno; Randy earned a date with a Urologist, Dr. S. Randy prefers to see his doctor alone. After, he said that he needed to take a cold shower lying down in the fetal position. He also had to go to the lab for a semen analysis. This would be the second time he had to go in for what I like to call “medical masturbation”.

           
What he found out from this first visit was that he had vericocele.  In a nut shell (pun intended); vericocele are similar to varicose veins around the testicle. This is a problem because the extra blood flow from these veins creates excess heat making the sperm lethargic. Yes my friends; my husband has “Hot Balls”! Unfortunately, the surgery may or may not have a positive effect on his count. In fact, our insurance covers 100% of this surgery because it is not considered a fertility treatment.

           
My husband hates any form of sedation. He once had a root canal where he asked the dentist to not use Novocain on him. They agreed on the lowest dosage. While the procedure was being performed the medication wore out and the dentist did not know until the end of the procedure when air hit the nerve. Medication would not be negotiable in this surgery, but asked that he not be prescribed Morphine.

           
The day of the surgery, I went to work and got out early and met him and my in-laws at the hospital. My husband was all ready to go. My father-in-law was there for support and comic relief. My Mother-in-law was in full prevention mode, questioning the doctor if there is any way to make sure this could be prevented in the future or if there are any dietary restrictions or any herbal supplements. Randy’s Urologist is fairly humorous for a surgeon and has a great bedside manner. He was very polite with her and patient. He let her know that much like varicose veins; a lot of this is genetic and cannot be prevented. This did not stop her from asking the same questions in different variations.

           
As we said, “good luck, and see you after” I learned that it may not be the right place to ask my husband if he is sure he wants children. I got the glare of death or at least what death would look like with one of those surgery bonnets on. Rightly so; timing is not one of my strong suits. Next, are the family kisses and he is wheeled away.

           
My father-in-law and I are hungry as it is now 12:30pm. We go to a local sandwich shop. My mother-in-law will not leave the hospital. In fact, she doesn’t want food either. Her nerves are shot. Although she has a book; she more than likely has just reread the same sentences over and over. We don’t protest; instead we pick her up a sandwich just in case knowing that her anxiety is just on overdrive. We enjoy our sandwiches and return back. Within twenty minutes of returning from lunch, Dr. S has come out to let us know how Randy is. My mother-in-law finds her last opportunity to ask if this can be prevented, again.  He gives her the same answer. It is genetic.

           
I am escorted back to the recovery room to help him get dressed. This will be the closest I will ever get to as to what Randy would look like inebriated since he does not drink. This does not make my job easier. It looks as if he had a Brazilian waxing gone bad. Giggling is hard not to do when helping one with his drawers. He is 6’3” and not a scrawny guy. He is going to have to sit on a donut looking cushion for the next couple days. This procedure left him with elephantiasis of the nut. The attendant wheels him out to the car. We drive home. My mother-in-law is relieved that he is out of the operating room as are the rest of us.

           
Over the next couple of days, Randy has junk on ice. He goes back to work on light duty. This surgery heals over the next six months. He is told to go to the lab after three months for another medical masturbation session and again after six months. During those six months of healing, we get our insurance paperwork to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist.  Shortly after recovery; we decide visit our favorite place, Disneyland. We avoid the E ticket rides, but Randy found out the hard way that Pirates of the Caribbean is more dangerous than he thought.

© All original content copyright Nancy De Lazzaro Brannum, 2013-2013

Those first office visits

Hello. My name is Nancy. My husband is Randy. We got married on February 5^th, 2005. We dated almost 7 years before we got married. As you can imagine everybody we know thinks that it is about time we have a baby. But that is the funny thing about time. It may be “about time” for the average couple and we have been trying to “race time” to get to that point. In some occasions on this journey we have both felt like “time is wasting”. One thing for sure is that my time is running out. I am 36 years old. I do not want to be the old woman on the playground with everyone asking me how old my grandchildren are. This blog is not for someone squeamish. If you are going to read further please take note that I use inappropriate terms and humor to fight this battle. You will read things like vadge, hot balls, testicles, jizz, and flog the dolphin aka medical masturbation. I also found that through this journey, creating memes has been an emotional outlet. I will share some that I have made with the help of the Internet and the Generates ALL the memes app.
   
When we first got married, we got advice about strengthening our marriage. Parents telling us that it was good to wait a couple years before we had kids. No one told us that we needed both of us to get tested for fertility. No one told us that getting pregnant would be so difficult. High school taught us how to prevent pregnancy and what biologically happens. As a result, I have no filter with newlyweds now. My first piece of advice is for both to get tested if they never want children. I mean two years of expensive procedures and testing can become that “wait two years to have kids” time factor.

            
In our first appointment after 3 months of trying and still a negative Nancy, we decided to go to my Gyno; Dr.W. There we got the wasteful advice of “try for a year”.  Now I like Dr. W. So this is not something I hold against him but, he sees pregnant women all the time. His biological clock is not ticking. My first wasted year was following this advice. It landed me a trip to his paper covered table one year later (not counting that lovely PAP test).

           
Back with Dr. W after my husband got tested. Randy is sitting on that complementary patient exam room chair, I am on the paper covered exam table. I look at Randy and jokingly tell him that Dr. W is going to come in and tell him that he could have been a man-slut in high school because he is as sterile as a cotton ball. What could be more devastating? I am good at expecting the worst. Dr. W comes in. Good news, we are not sterile. Bad news, my hubby has too much fluid causing dilution, six times more fluid to be exact. Yes ladies and gentlemen, my hubby has the money shot! Unfortunately he does not have a career in pornography and this little problem is not going to fix itself. This problem also comes with a side of high white blood cells which could indicate testicular cancer. So essentially we have healthy sperm to get pregnant but they have been drowning, oh and you might have a side dish of cancer. Please note that this is not how Dr. W. said any of this! He was very professional. My hubby gets a referral to see a Urologist and we march our way out of the office only to be face to face with my cousin and her husband. The perfect Ken and Barbie couple; we shall call them that to protect their privacy from now on.
     
Barbie is one of my few female cousins. I am the first grandchild of my family. She is the third granddaughter. She is one of those perfect cousins. She got married one year ago. Randy and I went to her wedding. This was a parade of snobby family members and us as the black sheep. It was not her fault and I hope she and her Ken are not hurt by this. She and I are stuck in a lot of family drama that neither of us has created. This was unmistakably evident with how family was placed to sit. Acceptable family on one table, those who were invited but not fit to socialize on a different table, where we could be easily ignored: not by the bride but by closer family members who deemed us beneath them. A couple of family members were not invited and some wouldn’t even attend and pretend and play nice. This is a cruel reality. She was cheated out of having her whole family support her.

     
Here we are. Face to face at the Gyno. She is going in, not showing but why else would she have her Ken doll husband with her? Clearly she will be making an announcement soon. We all say hi and I try to keep a stiff upper lip, but inside I am devastated. It’s bad enough to get our prognosis but now I am faced with genetic perfection and her attitude of entitlement. I left in tears but only my husband saw them. The ugly cry. Ken works with my Aunt Mary at the family’s construction business. He tells her that they saw us at Dr. W’s office and that I looked out of it. Mary knows everything. I don’t keep secrets from her. She is a surrogate mother to me. She just plays it off as I get severe cycles. But in reality we have a long way to go. 

© All original content copyright Nancy De Lazzaro Brannum, 2013-2013