Double nickels
What to do, what to do.
I got to thinking yesterday, as I boldly pulled on undies without adding insurance... I kind of like not having periods. My periods suck. They are horrendous, and heavy and long and miserable and messy and I certainly could do without them. I could do without the questions, the maybes, the wishing and hoping and certainly the disappointment.
So I went about my day.
Sometime in the middle of the night/wee morning hours, however, I became sad. What if this is it for me? Obviously, something isn't working too well somewhere. And the weird thing is, I *could* be okay with that. I was okay with that prior to the Mystery Conception of 2003. That little fiasco sent me swirling back into the whole "not giving up" and TTC bullshit all over again. I had moved past that. Like, a decade ago. Now I'm sort of stuck somewhere out in limbo-land, and I don't like it. There is no control. I base my hopes on some shiny feathered magical fairy that lives in my imagination.
I dislike not being in control.
I feel as if I could live with the DECISION to end my chances and wishful thinking, but not having that decision being made for me in some unfair lottery style fate.
When I had my D&C, I told the doc to go ahead an give me the works while he was in there. "If you won't take it out, at least do an ablation". At my checkup, I asked him if he had done the ablation (my post-procedure bloody output was nil). He had not. For one, I was in no position mentally or emotionally to give informed consent. Also, blah blah something about the size and condition of my uterus at the time blah blah not able to do it right then blah.
Today I am on CD55. I feel fine. I feel happy. I'm wondering if I should request the provera just to clear out the muck, or if I should just let it go until my stupid body decides it will right itself and do the job on its own. Not real interested in the clomid or anything else right now. My cholesterol is high, my blood pressure is high, my weight is high, my tensions are high; my warm fuzzy feelings are not.
Don't get me wrong, CD55 is hardly anything. I've gone well into the 80s before without incident. As a matter of fact, back in 1997 or 1998, I went close to six months without a period. I believe one should probably get checked after about 3 months, and the 6 month mark is a bit of a red flag. I've done birth control in the past to keep things on a more even keel, but I didn't care for the weight gain and zits and nausea, much less trying to remember to take them and swallowing an ounce of prevention when I really needed a kilo of cure.
So anyway, I guess it comes down to this. I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm fed up with wondering. I'm not at the point where I am ready to make any decisions right now, about anything. I'm tired of wearing pantiliners "just in case". I'm tired of watching the calendar.
I also realized last night, that we have gotten into a routine here at home. The Hubster is back to work out of town, so its just me and The Boy. He's a big boy, who more often than not likes to fend for himself. I'm on a long stretch of second shifts currently. I sleep in, do a little housework, go to my job, come back home, do the dishes and laundry, go to bed, lather rinse, repeat. He gets up for football practice, eats there, comes home for a nap, goes to lifting, comes back home and fixes himself dinner, watches some tv, and goes to bed. Some nights we watch a movie together. We see each other enough that he still bums money off of me, and I hand him a short list of chores that need to be done. It works. Do I want/need a tiny creature that is completely dependent on me to give me hassle?
The yearning to snuggle a little baby who looks at me with wonder and curiosity is still there. The need to mother, take care of, and dote on something is still there. I could get a kitten. Kittens let you snuggle on occasion. They look at everything with wonder and curiosity. And as a bonus, they bathe and toilet themselves. Of course its not the same thing, but its all I've got.
I got to thinking yesterday, as I boldly pulled on undies without adding insurance... I kind of like not having periods. My periods suck. They are horrendous, and heavy and long and miserable and messy and I certainly could do without them. I could do without the questions, the maybes, the wishing and hoping and certainly the disappointment.
So I went about my day.
Sometime in the middle of the night/wee morning hours, however, I became sad. What if this is it for me? Obviously, something isn't working too well somewhere. And the weird thing is, I *could* be okay with that. I was okay with that prior to the Mystery Conception of 2003. That little fiasco sent me swirling back into the whole "not giving up" and TTC bullshit all over again. I had moved past that. Like, a decade ago. Now I'm sort of stuck somewhere out in limbo-land, and I don't like it. There is no control. I base my hopes on some shiny feathered magical fairy that lives in my imagination.
I dislike not being in control.
I feel as if I could live with the DECISION to end my chances and wishful thinking, but not having that decision being made for me in some unfair lottery style fate.
When I had my D&C, I told the doc to go ahead an give me the works while he was in there. "If you won't take it out, at least do an ablation". At my checkup, I asked him if he had done the ablation (my post-procedure bloody output was nil). He had not. For one, I was in no position mentally or emotionally to give informed consent. Also, blah blah something about the size and condition of my uterus at the time blah blah not able to do it right then blah.
Today I am on CD55. I feel fine. I feel happy. I'm wondering if I should request the provera just to clear out the muck, or if I should just let it go until my stupid body decides it will right itself and do the job on its own. Not real interested in the clomid or anything else right now. My cholesterol is high, my blood pressure is high, my weight is high, my tensions are high; my warm fuzzy feelings are not.
Don't get me wrong, CD55 is hardly anything. I've gone well into the 80s before without incident. As a matter of fact, back in 1997 or 1998, I went close to six months without a period. I believe one should probably get checked after about 3 months, and the 6 month mark is a bit of a red flag. I've done birth control in the past to keep things on a more even keel, but I didn't care for the weight gain and zits and nausea, much less trying to remember to take them and swallowing an ounce of prevention when I really needed a kilo of cure.
So anyway, I guess it comes down to this. I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm fed up with wondering. I'm not at the point where I am ready to make any decisions right now, about anything. I'm tired of wearing pantiliners "just in case". I'm tired of watching the calendar.
I also realized last night, that we have gotten into a routine here at home. The Hubster is back to work out of town, so its just me and The Boy. He's a big boy, who more often than not likes to fend for himself. I'm on a long stretch of second shifts currently. I sleep in, do a little housework, go to my job, come back home, do the dishes and laundry, go to bed, lather rinse, repeat. He gets up for football practice, eats there, comes home for a nap, goes to lifting, comes back home and fixes himself dinner, watches some tv, and goes to bed. Some nights we watch a movie together. We see each other enough that he still bums money off of me, and I hand him a short list of chores that need to be done. It works. Do I want/need a tiny creature that is completely dependent on me to give me hassle?
The yearning to snuggle a little baby who looks at me with wonder and curiosity is still there. The need to mother, take care of, and dote on something is still there. I could get a kitten. Kittens let you snuggle on occasion. They look at everything with wonder and curiosity. And as a bonus, they bathe and toilet themselves. Of course its not the same thing, but its all I've got.
posted by Julie at 12:44 AM
5 Comments:
I think, I wouldn't know either what to do. Helpful, eh?
I'm so sorry you've had so much reproductive heartache. It just makes me want to scream "stop messing with Julie! NOW!" That and demand the cutest little baby for you. I know, you would also take an "ugly one" at this point (by the way I loved those blinkies (?)!), but if I had say here, it definetely would be a deliciously cute one.
Oh dammit, Julie. I don't know if I should be applauding your ability to be nonchalant or telling you not to give up. I know that's a horrible attitude for a fellow blogger in our position but I am a sucker and pretty much the most naive of the loss bloggers out there... I still have a teensy bit of hope.
I respect whatever you want to do, obviously. I guess I'm just not good at giving advice (or assvice, however you want to phrase it.)
Thinking of you regardless.
I wonder if we find ourselves caught up on the "wrong" side of closure. I feel like I'll be giving up on our lost baby if we just say "Ok, that's it." But what I don't understand is why does that feel wrong to me?
Does that make any sense? Sorry if I'm rambling. I do that some (often) times.
It feels weird to have your reproductive cycle completely shut down, even if it is only temporary. There are no easy answers here... most people never have to think about these questions, the babies just arrive, sooner or later.
Whatever you decide to do, it will be the right thing. Maybe once the Boy has flown the nest, you'll realize how nice it is to have a private nest just for you and hubby (and the kitten, of course!). Or maybe the twins will arrive before then... :)
The only thing with the kitten is that even when it grows up - it's still going to crap in a box. A baby eventually (so I'm told) grows to the point where they can deal with that on their own... well, you know what I mean.
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