My doc called me yesterday with the results of my pap and HPV marker test (which is apparently a thing they do now?).  Pap was normal and I'm negative for the markers.  Because of the new regulations I don't have to have another pap test for 5 years.  Although apparently annual exams still have to happen.

Anyway, funny story: I was telling M the above update and he says "Pap Smear sounds like it should be a mafia name."

Normally I wake up a few minutes before M so he never sees me take my BBT.  This morning however, he woke up before me and became confused when he saw me stick the thermometer in my mouth, asking if I was sick again.  No sweetie, BBT =/= regular temp taking.  Maybe I should get him a pamphlet...

Last night I went to the gym for a weight lifting class.  It was a lot of fun, even though today my arms are screaming at me.  Fun, except for there being a pregnant girl in the class.  Of course there was.  So even at the gym I can get away from it.  Honestly, I almost walked out as soon as I noticed her, even though class had already begun.  But I stayed.  She was in my field of vision the entire time.  But I stayed.  And didn't cry.

Bad/Good

Over the weekend my BBT plummeted, so I had a feeling there was no baby again.  And I was right.  The weird thing is, I hadn't had ANY pms symptoms.  Not even the out-of-control mood swings or intense food cravings.  It was a longer cycle than it has been the past few months, so I wasn't sure what was going on.  I'm guessing it was being sick that threw me off?  After definite confirmation of a new cycle beginning, I forced myself not to cry and focus on other things.  I cooked dinner.  I didn't immediately throw my pj's on. At 8pm I left the apartment and went to the gym for an hour.  I hopped on a treadmill and read for class (all 30 chapters that are on our test today...).  I came home, showered, had a cookie, and got to bed at a decent hour.  Definitely not the normal schedule of things that accompany a new month.

Oh, and a guy on my facebook feed announced he was going to be a dad.  He was one of the first guys I ever crushed on.  I was 11, he was 12, and his dad was our soccer coach.  He was always nice to me, and I kept seeing him in school ever since.  We were in different cliques though, so a relationship never would've worked.  Still, I often wonder what would've happened if I'd ended up with him, or any of the other guys that I'd crushed on (M was my first, and only, *real* relationship).

To otherwise occupy myself I'm focusing on T's gender reveal.  She finds out in a week and a half (hopefully).  She said if it's a girl she might want a baby shower, but if it's another boy then she doesn't want anything.  To which I said I'd throw her a frozen dinner shower.  People can bring diapers and frozen homemade dishes.

I'm kinda glad she waited to tell me until she was 12 weeks.  That way I only have to think about it for 6 months, instead of the entire time like with my sister-in-law.  She told me the week after she found out.

Doc update

Frustrating.

That's really the only way to describe my appointment.  I'm still "young enough" to not worry about infertility.  But I kept pushing.  She wants M to provide a "sample" to rule him out.  He had an analysis done 3 years ago (everything came back normal) and said he was done then.  Last year he was supposed to provide one but didn't because he thought it was pointless.  When I told him last night he was ok with it.

So really, nothing can move forward until the sample results come back.  I'm frustrated that we can't do anything until then.  But baby steps, right?

1st step: wait for M to get over his cold and provide a healthy sample.  Wait for results.

2nd step: after results are in, meet w/doc again to discuss fertility specialists.  She has 3 that she works with, it'll just be up to me to decide if I want either the two locals or the one that commutes in once a week from Houston.  Probably the locals.

3rd step: meet with specialist.

Baby steps.  I have to keep telling myself that this isn't going to be easy, or fast.  It'll take time.  I figure if I don't tell myself "oh I'll have a plan within a month" then I won't be disappointed.  So I'll tell myself "by the end of the year."  Because surely something will have happened by then, right?

At least I didn't cry.

Workout fakeout

Saturday:
I got out of bed immediately after waking instead of lying there for an hour like usual.
I had taken my shower the night before so I didn't have to worry about the "will I shower today" argument with myself.
I got dressed.
I took the dog for a nice walk.
I went and had breakfast with people!  Ok, so it was going to the pastry shop and getting a croissant to go, but hey, I interacted with people!  Baby steps.
I studied for my sign language class and did some homework.
I went grocery shopping.
I went to a deaf social for my sign language class and forced myself to talk to strangers.  For an hour.

Sunday:
I woke up.
I went and got breakfast again.
I took the dog out.
I went to the gym and worked out for 2 hours.  Well hello endorphins!  One hour included Centergy (a mix of yoga and pilates set to music).  My mind was clear and I had no stressful thoughts.  Nice.

I see my obgyn this afternoon.  I'm a little nervous.  That's all I can really say.  No other thoughts form when I think about it.  Maybe I'll update tomorrow on what she says.  Depends on what's said.  I might need a few days to digest.  Or it might be good.  I honestly I have no idea.  See?  Nervous.

Unrelated, but good: I'm writing recaps for a couple of tv shows for a tv website.  The Walking Dead, Helix, and soon to be Killer Women.  So that's a nice thing to help take my mind off things.  Check it out at http://thetelevixen.com/

Two years ago I quit the gym.  I was going almost every day and not seeing any results.  The number on the scales would go up and down, no more than 5lbs.  One year ago I learned about the problems with my endocrine system.  Monday I went back to the gym and reopened my membership.  I sat down with a fitness evaluator and made out a 1 month and 3 month goal plan.  Basically I need to lose roughly 10lbs a month to get out of the "high risk" category.  Which works for me.  I've already lost 30 over the past year, thanks to medication.  Now I'm hoping to see a bigger loss with all the extra exercise.

One of the scary things about sitting down with the goal planner was him asking *why* I wanted to get in shape.  I couldn't bring myself to tell his 22 year old fitness major that I'm infertile and hoping some weight loss will help.  Silent struggle yall.  So I just told him that my doctors wanted me to get in better shape.  Which isn't a lie.  Both of my doctors do want me to drop some weight, and thankfully my endo is happy that I've lost as much as I have already.

The sucky thing about joining the gym on Monday is I got insanely sick the next day.  I've been battling an allergy attack (brought on by the bipolar weather) and it turned the knob to 11.  So basically I joined, got an assessment, worked out for about 20 minutes, then haven't been back all week.  I was hoping to lose a couple extra pounds before I see my obgyn on Monday, but I don't think that'll happen.

Depression Lies

If you've never read Jenny Lawson's blog, stop reading and get thee to http://thebloggess.com/

I'll wait.

Done?  Ok let's proceed.

I discovered Jenny's blog about a year and a half ago when one of my friends was telling me about she kept trying to get a pic of Nathan Fillion holding twine.  In the beginning I thought her blog was simply quirky humor, but after a while I realized: the humor is to combat the depression.  Her posts can be extremely raw at times, but honestly those are the ones that are the most uplifting.  In a recent post about depression lying to you, I commented on dealing with infertility-based depression.  She commented back directly to me about knowing the exact same troubles.

So in the spirit of Jenny (and countless others battling depression), I have decided to count my accomplishments for today:

I got out of bed.
I showered.
I put in my contacts.
I went for a walk outside with the dog.

I'm sure some of you might think "well those are simple everyday tasks" and you'd be right.  During the work week those are things I do without thinking about them.  Because I have to.  Work forces me to get my butt out of bed.  But the weekend?  No.  The weekends are for pjs and glasses and hoping the dog can hold it because the last thing I want to do is open the door to the outside world.

Depression lies.  It tells you that you're not good enough, that because you can't have a child that you're less of a woman.  That you aren't worth a damn and should probably just end it all because what good are you if you can't even do one simple human task, like conceiving a child.  Everyone else can do it, why can't you?

After reading the article I posted yesterday, I really got to thinking about it.  Infertility truly is a silent struggle.  It's not something that people can see so they know what's going on.  You can see the effects of cancer on a person.  You can't see an infertile woman.  Sure, she may be childless but she can always laugh it off "oh we don't want children" or "oh it's just not the right time."  I've said those on multiple occasions.  You can't just up and tell people that your womb is barren.  Because then you get pity.  I don't want pity, I want compassion and understanding and for someone to fix me.

All I've told my mother is that it's going to be difficult for us to have a child.  I think my mother-in-law knows about the same.  My sister-in-law knows a little more, mostly because she herself had to endure IVF and knows about the struggles (although her fertility issue was a blank-shooting husband soooooo).  T knows everything.  Every time I see my obgyn or my endocrinologist, she's the first person (after husband) that I tell.

How do you tell someone who's perfectly healthy that you can't have children?

Something I needed

Sometimes the universe sends you the thing you need when you need it most (no, I didn't get pregnant.  Yet.)  A friend posted this on Facebook last night, although I didn't read it until this morning.  It cuts pretty deep, but I found it comforting.  Especially since it's written from the husband's point of view.

http://natepyle.com/the-disgrace-of-infertility/

(I honestly couldn't remember that verse so I looked it up.  I use the King James Version and it uses "reproach" instead of "disgrace."  Since I'm more analytical than grammar-ific, I had to verify that they are synonyms)