Selling out: my pre-FET GF cleanse

I've never been one for fad diets.  As much as I've spent a large portion of my life "dieting" (sad, I know, and not even really necessary), I've never followed any specific plan other than counting calories and trying to eat less bad stuff and more good stuff.  Atkins, South Beach, low-carb, no carb, Paleo, primal...they all confuse me with their seemingly arbitrary restrictions, and quite frankly any diet that tells me I can't have something at all (even in moderation) is bound to fail.

Now, before everyone starts shouting at me, I realize that going gluten-free (GF) isn't a diet per se.  Of course, unless you're putting yourself in the poorhouse by gorging yourself on expensive GF substitutes, quite often you'll lose weight on a GF diet because you're cutting out calorically dense foods like bread, pasta, and most baked treats.  Which is great, if that's what you're going for.  But for a lot of people, going GF isn't something they're doing to lose a few pounds.  It's something they have to do because their health depends on it.  One of those people is my sister.

My sister was diagnosed with Celiac disease when she was pregnant with my niece.  Unlike a lot of people with Celiac who have digestive issues, my sister was totally asymptomatic apart from a longstanding issue with anemia that even iron supplements couldn't fix.  Turns out that's because her gut was so damaged from gluten that she couldn't absorb it properly.  Once she got pregnant, it seems that her Celiac kicked into high gear and she had a lot of trouble eating anything at all for a while.  It went beyond normal morning sickness, but fortunately her doctor figured it out relatively quickly and she's been healthy ever since going totally GF.

Given this history, gluten intolerance was pretty much the first thing I got tested for when we started having problems conceiving.  Though I've never had any digestive issues at all, I found myself in the unlikely position of hoping that I had asymptomatic Celiac as well, since it was something I could fix.  Take bread out of belly = put baby in belly!  Simple equation!  As we all know, for me it wasn't that easy.  My Celiac blood panel came back clean, and a later test at a naturopath's office (just for good measure) yielded similar results.

I got 99 problems, but a 'wich ain't one.

Which brings me to the crux of my dilemma: going GF when you don't absolutely need to for health reasons.  On the one hand, the increasing number of people who are eating GF has meant huge growth in the availability of GF foods, which is a great thing for people like my sister.  She's no longer relegated to one aisle in the grocery store like some kind of digestive leper.  But the flip side of that coin is that GF is taken a lot less seriously, because most of the people eating this way won't die (or even get seriously sick) if a speck of gluten gets into their food through cross-contamination.  Lots of restaurants are now claiming to offer GF menu options, even though their allegedly GF potatoes are fried in the same oil as their gluten-filled breaded chicken.  My sister has been served croutons on a Caesar salad accompanying her GF meal, and had to specifically ask for a new salad rather than just having the waiter take it back and pick off the offending bits.  This would be unacceptable if the customer had a life-threatening anaphylactic reaction to, say, shrimp.  But being GF has become so common, nay, so trendy, that it isn't taken as seriously by food manufacturers anymore.  This is despite the fact that people like my sister, with true Celiac, will get sick even if it's not immediately visible.

It may sound like it, but I really don't intend to crap on people who have genuine digestive or other health problems caused by gluten intolerance, even if they don't have full-blown Celiac.  If going GF makes you feel more healthy, then by all means do so!  And I'm all too aware of the fact that there are a lot of women in the online IF community who've finally had success with cycles where they went totally GF, despite the absence of any obvious pre-existing problems caused by gluten.  So there's that.  I just have personal issues with people jumping on the GF train for absolutely no reason other than the fact that it's the latest thing that they think will make them skinny, or because they believe that gluten is the source of all health problems, or whatever.

Anyway, the gist of all of this is that I've decided to go GF for the next two weeks leading up to my FET.  I feel like such a sellout!  And yet it's a relatively easy thing to do, so why would I not try everything possible given that this is our last shot with my eggs?  I have to admit that I'm not sold on the idea that it will help, but I'm also curious to see if a GF regimen will have any impact on other inflammatory issues that I've been dealing with (namely, hereditary psoriasis that's been getting steadily worse over the past year or two).  My doctor seems to think it's worth a try.  To make myself feel mildly better about it, I've decided to tie it in to a general clean-eating regimen linked to my latest fitness program, which is much more focused on weight training than on cardio.  I've stocked up on fruits, veggies and lean protein for the week to come, and am staying away from GF breads or other snack substitutes (because they're not strictly "clean" due to the chemicals required to stabilize them).  At best, I'll find myself pregnant in a month's time, at which point I'll become an insufferable advocate of a GF lifestyle to deal with infertility.  At worst, I might start seeing some strength gains and more muscle definition.  Can we call that win-win?  Yes, let's.

It's on like Donkey Kong

If Donkey Kong was female.  And infertile.  And having an FET.

Never mind.  None of this is like Donkey Kong at all, now that I think about it.

My clinic called and instructed me to start taking my Estrace today.  So now I'm back to inserting those little blue pills where the sun don't shine for the next couple of weeks.  I specifically asked them if it was possible to time things so that the transfer takes place after M gets back from his business trip later this month, and they said that shouldn't be a problem at all.  They'll just have me keep taking Estrace for a little bit longer before I start progesterone.  Easy peasy!

The only other change from my last FET is that I've been instructed to start taking one baby aspirin daily.  I've heard of lots of other women taking it during cycles, and while the exact benefits aren't fully known, it's believed to help promote placental blood flow which should hopefully improve my chances of implantation.  Whatever it takes, right? 

You guys, I really really want to be excited about this transfer.  But the truth is I'm pretty petrified.  If this doesn't work...that's it.  It's game over for my genetic material.  I have to give up on the idea of ever having my own biological child.  And while there are certain genetic traits that it's probably better that I don't pass on (my family's signature weak chin and near-legendary lack of flexibility, for instance), I'm going to have to grieve the loss of this person that won't ever exist.  A person who is a little part of me.  Not to mention that, after already spending two years on this horrible infertility journey, I'll be turning a corner only to realize that we're not even halfway to our destination.  I'll need to start researching donor egg clinics abroad, contacting them for info, and making arrangements for new testing and treatments.  As I commented on The Unexpected Trip (a wonderfully written blog that you should totally read if you don't already), it feels like I'm climbing a hill and won't know until I get to the top if I’ve reached the summit, or if I’ve just cleared the first foothill on my way to a mountain range.

I know that there are lots of you out there who've done donor egg (and succeeded!) and I'll definitely be turning to you ladies for strength and advice if it comes to that.  But for now, I'm just going to keep moving forward, one little blue vagina pill at a time.

New Year, new cycle

Happy New Year, everybody.  I meant to say it well before now, but it's been crazy at work lately (I know, what happened to the holiday lull??) and when I get home I've just been doing a workout, eating dinner and crashing onto the couch in my cozy pants.

This time last year I was reflecting on how crappy 2012 had been, and how badly I'd handled it by just letting myself sink into all the shit that was going on.  I made a resolution to start living my life again, despite infertility.  And I think I did a pretty good job, which is funny because when you tally it up, we had a lot of the same shit hit us in different ways this year.  To recap:

- failed IVF cycles?  Check.

- pet death? Check.

- health issues?  (Not mine personally this time, but check.)

- it came close to the wire and thought we might actually get through this year without a house disaster, but Mother Nature came through at the buzzer with an ice storm so....check.

The only thing that I can safely say that I did differently this year was try as hard as I could to change my attitude.  Am I still depressed as hell about infertility, and terrified that I'll never be able to feel what it's like to become a mother?  Hell to the yeah.  But I tried my damndest not to let that stop me from living my life, and as a result I think maybe the lows felt a little less low this year.  Or at least I came out of them a bit quicker, or something.  I dunno how it works.  But to borrow an idea from Jane, here's a list of some of the wonderful things that went right this year.

- fulfilled a lifelong dream by learning to surf during an awesome vacation in Mexico in January
- we welcomed our dog Buddy into our family in April

- ran my first Spartan race in June

- got to see my family and spend time with my niece during a trip home in July

- had a great beach vacation in Maine with M and his family in August

- stuck solidly to a healthy eating and fitness regimen that saw me drop 13 pounds this year (so slowly I didn't even realize it was happening until my pants started getting loose!)

If I called 2012 "the lost year", I guess I can look back on 2013 as the year I started to find myself again.  I can only hope that 2014 will continue this upward trend.  It's off to a promising start, as I finally got my period on January 2nd.  That's 10 weeks after my last Lupron Depot shot, for anyone who's counting.  I had Day 3 baseline bloodwork and ultrasound done yesterday, and all looks good (although my FSH keeps creeping ever higher at 14 and my AFC ever lower at 9).

Here's the wrinkle.  My RE apparently didn't write a protocol for me before the holidays, even though I called just before Christmas to ask what I should do if AF came over the break while the clinic was closed.  I was told to go in for monitoring as usual.  But for my last FET cycle, I started Estrace on Day 3.  This time, because there was no protocol on file at the clinic (and my RE's office is closed until Monday), the nurses couldn't give me instructions to start Estrace.  I think the alternative option is that I'll start BCPs on Day 5 (tomorrow, once my RE is back in and can review my chart and write a protocol) to be followed by estrogen later.  This would work out well, since M is gone for part of January and it should push the transfer back long enough that he'll be home for it when it happens.  Of course it's also always possible that my RE will say "Oops!  I wanted you to start Estrace on Day 3.  I don't want you on BCPs at all.  We'll just have to wait for next month!", in which case I'll be pretty pissed.  But no point worrying about that until I get the call from the clinic tomorrow.  As impatient as I am to get this going, I don't want to go forward unless my RE has me on the protocol that will lead to the best chance of success.  Of course I'm also terrified, as this is quite literally my last shot at having my own biological child.  But that's a post for another day.  As of right now, we're finally moving forward.  To what end, only time will tell.

Start your engines

A belated Merry Christmas to you, blog friends!  I hope you all had wonderful holidays with turkey and eggnog and presents and awesomeness.  Sorry to leave you hanging with the drama of my last post.  Our power stayed out for just over two days after the ice storm last Saturday.  We kept popping into the house on our way to and from work to make sure things were still OK, and to deal with minor issues like water seeping out of our freezer as things defrosted.  Full power was restored Christmas Eve morning, just in time for us to pack everything up and head to the in-laws' place for the holidays.  We ate a lot, lounged around in pyjamas, and in general had a wonderful relaxing time.  Unlike many of you, there are no other kids in M's immediate family so we didn't have to deal with constant reminders of our infertility, although Skyping with my sister and niece on Christmas morning was a little hard.  Seeing some of the pictures of her little face while opening her presents...well, let's just say that it made me wish more than ever that we had our own child to spoil.

It seems like it's been a while since I've updated on actual ladyparts stuff.  Well, after a full two months of absolutely nothing happening down below, I think I would have had to have been in a coma not to notice the engines revving again.  First the hot flashes started dissipating, and somewhere around the second week of December I finally stopped having any hot flashes or night sweats at all.  Then, much to my amazement, I started getting cervical mucous.  And oh, the cervical mucous!  This shizz was beautiful.  Calling it "EWCM" doesn't do it justice, my friends.  Copious in amount, slick and slippery in texture...it was like gold.  Snotty, slimy, mutantly stretchy gold!  Never one to look a gift horse in the cervix, M and I humped like rabbits every second day until it went away.

Something else that happened this cycle that normally doesn't was ovulation pain.  In the past I might have gotten a twinge or two, but this month I was downright uncomfortable.  At one point on the day that I think I ovulated, I was walking the dog and my ovaries felt like two bowling balls jostling around in my abdomen.  It was almost like how I felt post-egg retrieval.  I have no idea if this is a good thing or a bad thing, or if it means nothing and it was just more noticeable because my system was restarting itself after two months of inertia.  Either way, I am as confident as I can be without charting or using OPKs (because I gave up on those a long time ago) that I ovulated on December 18th.

So now I'm in a two week wait.  It's something that I haven't experienced for a while, and I'd kind of forgotten how much I hate it.  I mean, let's face it, I'm not pregnant.  It would take a bloody Christmas miracle.  Not even Dr. Google can find me a single story of someone getting pregnant their first cycle off Lupron Depot.  And before you start asking, the answer is no, I'm not having any symptoms.  At least, none that aren't totally imaginary and/or explainable by a million other things.  You know, the usual.

The real concern that I have is how long my luteal phase is going to last.  This is important because my clinic is currently closed for the holidays.  It reopens on January 2nd, so if I get a period any time before New Years' Eve I can't go in for Day 3 monitoring...meaning that a January FET is not going to happen.  I'll have to wait a whole extra month to get some closure on this whole "own eggs" thing.  My normal luteal phase is long, at 17 days, which would put me safely into the new year with a period on January 4th.  Even a standard 14-day LP has my period arriving on January 1st, which is in the clear.  But as we all know, my uterus is an asshole so for the first time in the history of ever I'll probably have a 12 day LP, putting me just outside the Day 3 monitoring window.  The suspense, it never ends around here.

Shelter from the storm

As I write this, we are refugees.  We're currently at M's folks' place, where they have amazing luxuries like heat and electricity that are sadly lacking in our neck of the woods.  Last night Toronto got hit by a nasty freezing rain storm that coated everything in a thick layer of ice, ultimately causing severe power outages as ice-heavy tree limbs gave up the ghost and took out power lines as they came crashing down. 

We initially thought that we weren't getting hit as badly as meteorologists predicted, but as we were watching Saturday Night Live last night we started hearing crazy noises outside.  At first we thought it was just our garbage and recycling bins blowing around, but then we figured out that it was a combination of the BOOM of power transformers exploding and the C-C-R-A-A-C-K of tree branches tumbling into our yard.  The power flickered on and off all night, making sleep all but impossible (why oh why must smoke detectors make that shrieking beep every time they lose/gain electricity?) and we eventually lost it completely around 5am.  M and I took turns getting out of bed to see what had made the latest noise, hoping that our car wasn't being destroyed by branches falling from the large birch in our front yard.  Fortunately most of the damage seems to have been confined to the yard-side of the tree rather than the part that overhangs the driveway (as well as the power line connecting our house to the main electrical line).

 The view from our bedroom window this morning.  Poor birchy.

About 4am we both happened to be out of bed looking into our backyard when a gigantic limb fell off our neighbour's tree, which overhangs our yard.  It ended up crashing onto our shed, taking out a wire of some kind that runs from the back of the house to a main line above our back fence.  Strangely, this didn't end up resulting in a loss of power, so I have no idea if it's an electrical line or something else.  We've been avoiding it just to make sure, and wouldn't let Buddy out into the backyard on his own.  Unfortunately the Toronto Hydro phone line that you can call to report downed wires is totally out of commission due to call volume, so we still haven't been able to report it some 14 hours later.

Backyard view.  Cleanup's gonna be fun!

We hunkered down at home for the morning, hoping that we'd be one of the lucky ones to get our power restored relatively quickly.  Right now Toronto Hydro is saying that it could be up to 72 hours before full service is restored.  We wimped out somewhere around 3pm, when the temperature in the house hit 18 degrees (65 F) and we started fantasizing about hot food and coffee.  Although I was initially hesitant to head out on the roads for the 1.5 hour drive to M's parents' house, my cold feet eventually won out and we abandoned ship.  We had to re-route around a couple of huge tree limbs blocking the roads in our neighbourhood, but the main thoroughfares were actually pretty good travel-wise.  And of course, as much as this storm has made a hell of a mess, it's ironically very pretty as well.

View from the car as we got the hell out of Dodge.

Despite being displaced from our house, we're actually quite lucky in that we were planning on spending Christmas with M's parents at their place anyway so it's not like we have to reorganize some gigantic family get-together as I'm sure many Torontonians are doing right now.  And our municipal representatives are pretty on the ball, so I'm sure that things will be back up and running efficiently in no time.

 

Ladies and gentlemen, Mayor Rob Ford!

Scratch that.  We're fucked.

Open letter to idiots at the supermarket

Happy weekend, fellow infertility goddesses!  It's a snowy Saturday here in Toronto, which means that people are driving like numbskulls and heading to grocery stores in droves since who knows when we'll see fresh food delivery again.  I mean, this could be it.  Society as we know it could very well be on the verge of breaking down.  I kind of almost hope it is, because that's about all I can think of that would explain the behaviour of people at the supermarket this morning.  Warning:  rant ahead.

One of the things that sucks about having a regular 9-to-5, Monday-to-Friday job (apart from the fact that I have to, you know, go to it) is that it means that a lot of my chores and errands, like grocery shopping, get done on the weekends.  I'd love to have the luxury of doing it on a Thursday morning like my mom used to, but it's just not going to happen.  My preferred time for groceries is Saturday morning.  There's lots of selection since the shelves are freshly stocked, and I get it done and out of the way so I can go on about the rest of my weekend.  Apparently a lot of people think like this, since the store always seems to be super busy around this time.  Which means it's even more important that people observe the basic etiquette rules of grocery shopping, as I shall enumerate below:

1.  Dear old people:  I understand that grocery shopping has changed a lot since your day.  Milk is no longer delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles by nice men in white coats, and you're not on a first name basis with your butcher.  I understand that some of these changes might be confusing to you.  Why are there so many kinds of mustard?  Does yogurt only come in tubes now?  Where did they put the foot ointment?  What exactly is INSIDE a Hot Pocket?  (Answer: No one knows.  Don't eat it.)  I understand that it might be difficult for you to read all the tiny print on the wall of soup cans, and that it might take you a while to choose which one of the 65 kinds of soup you actually want.  No one blames you for this.  You're old and it's loud in here.  But while you're spending an hour studying the wall of Campbell's, do me a favour and pull your cart over to the side and please get out of my way.

2.  Dear grocery store employees:  I'm sure it's no fun being paid 11 bucks an hour to put up with idiots who can't figure out that you put the coconut milk in the baking section instead of the Asian section (side note: why do you do this?).  And yeah, fuck that guy who decided he didn't want those chicken breasts and put them on the shelf with the cake mix.  Last night.  That guy's a jerk.  You're just trying to do your job.  You have to stock shelves.  The peanut butter isn't going to walk itself onto the display (and if it does, we have larger problems).  But please, instead of parking your stocking cart on a 45-degree angle in the middle of the aisle as you work, be considerate and pull it over to the side and get out of my way.

3.  Dear men:  I know, you never come here.  Your wife always does this.  But for some reason she couldn't make it here today so she gave you a list and quite possibly a small child to lug around while getting the items on said list.  But just so you know, the list is not a test.  Perhaps it's not as specific as you like (she wrote milk!  Did she mean 2%?  Skim?  Almond?  What size?  OhgodI'mgoingtofail!) but chances are she's relying on you to actually be able to remember what you haul out of the fridge and put on your cereal every day.  If you can't, just do your best.  If you bring home 2% instead of skim she's probably not going to divorce you.  And if she is, your marriage is in worse shape than you thought.  But while you're panicking and having your existential crisis about milk/your marriage, be a dear and move your goddamn cart over to the side and get the hell out of my way.

4.  Dear moms:  I'm sorry that your husband is a complete idiot and brought home 2% milk last time when you always buy skim.  I have no idea what got into him.  He should know better.  I'm sure it's no fun to have to come here week after week, screeching toddler in tow, while your husband sits on the couch playing Xbox.  You're just trying to do your best and buy healthy food for your family while simultaneously preventing your child from spilling the box of goldfish crackers you just gave him/her to stop them from crying/running away/climbing the shelves/eating dog treats.  Oh, now they want to push the cart!  How cute, they want to push the cart just like mom!  DO NOT LET THEM PUSH THE CART.  They're like tiny drunks on a power trip.  Great, now they're crying because you won't let them push the cart.  As you try to console them and/or threaten them into silence by telling them that Santa is watching, for the love of all that is good and holy move your cart to the side and get out of my motherfucking way.

As you can see, the rules of supermarket etiquette basically boil down to one thing.  Can't figure out what you're doing?  Pull over to the side so others can get by while you figure it out.  Is that really so hard?  Is it?  Really?

Hot mess

I'm here, friends!  Don't send out the search party just yet!

I've been a bit of an absent blogger/commenter lately.  I'm blaming it on the fact that I've just gotten over my third cold in the last month.  You'd swear I was out licking subway poles or something, rather than enjoying the otherwise healthiest year of my life.  I had a smallish head cold at the start of November that went away pretty quickly, then another one two weeks later that was a bit worse but still survivable.  No time off work required, and I even managed to keep up with my workout schedule.

Then my body said FUCK YOU.  It started last Wednesday when I just could not clear my throat.  I felt that annoying post-nasal drip tickle where you can feel mucous in your throat, but no matter how much I coughed it wouldn't go away.  By Wednesday evening I had a headache, and Thursday I woke up with a fever.  Great, I thought, my colds have morphed into pneumonia.  I ended up going in to work regardless because Thursday and Friday were training days on a new piece of software that is going to be very important for my job and I didn't want to miss it.  Plus my doctor is near my office so I managed to squeeze in an appointment.  I'm not normally one to go to the doctor for a little sneeze and cough, but a whole month of it plus a fever had me a little worried and a lot annoyed.

The good news is that it was just another cold.  The bad news is that it was a lot worse than the other ones, and I ended up flat on my back on the couch until Sunday.  I may have missed my second day of training at work, but I still managed to learn a few things.

a.  When people say animals know when you are feeling bad, they are lying.  Buddy didn't give a royal crap that I felt like shit.  Instead of cuddling on the couch with me he stayed upstairs most of the time on his giant new dog bed that we got at a beagle rescue fundraiser a few weeks ago.  Giant dog bed > sniffling feverish lady.  Dog math.

b.  I am a terrible housekeeper.  It's easy to convince myself otherwise when I get home after dark every weekday (gotta love those short winter days), but when lying on the couch in full daylight my slacking in the area of dusting/sweeping was patently obvious.  I don't know how normal people keep their houses clean.  I would have to dust and sweep every day.  Are there people out there who actually do this? 

c.  Daytime TV sucks.  Hard.  Seriously, is Dr. Oz a quack?  He seems like a quack.  QUACK!!

Anyway, you'll all be pleased to know that I'm now recovered and seriously hoping my husband doesn't come down with it, because we all know what giant babies men are when they're sick.

In ladyparts news, this week marks 7 weeks since my last Lupron shot.  I had been starting to despair that my cycles would return on their own, since up until I got sick I was still having the occasional hot flash/night sweat.  After I got sick my fever made me feel like I was in a constant state of hot flash, so that both sucked and made it hard to know what was going on.  But this week I've now gone three days with no heat waves.  AND this morning I had...gasp!...actual cervical mucous!!  It's been drier than the Sahara down there since Lupron, so I really hoped that once my estrogen levels started rising I'd notice something that would let me know what was going on.  Soooo...I'm thinking this means the engines are revving again.  Of course this still means a period is a couple of weeks away, but at least things may be happening.  The biggest issue now is that M is going to be gone on a business trip for the middle two weeks of January, which could be exactly when my FET is scheduled depending on what happens with my period.  Figures, right?  I haven't decided what I'll do at that point, whether we'll wait another month so he can be here or just do it and get it over with.  But it'll be hard to get my bed rest with a dog to walk and no one home to feed me, so that may dictate.  Typical AF, right?  That bitch has the worst timing.