Monday, January 4, 2010

then and now

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So, as I have slowly (but surely) risen above the dense fog of nausea and sleepiness that IS the first trimester of pregnancy, and as my visits to the porcelain palace have become fewer and fewer in number, it has come to my attention that many of you who are still struggling with infertility want to know what the heck we did!

I find myself in a very strange position these days. 2 months ago, I was struggling. Wondering what the heck was wrong with me. Scared that I may never feel a baby move inside of me again. Scared that Kort would be an only child forever and that we’d have weird, awkward, Christmases when he was grown up and married with just the four of us…sitting around a quiet, near-empty house… (yeah, I thought about a lot of weird, random things).

I also thought that if we ever lost him, there would be nothing to pull me back from the darkness. No diapers to change, no toddler to chase, no 5 year old sibling that I’d have to “be strong for”… just me, and Kyle, and the blackest grief my mind could comprehend - a grief that would hole me up in my house for years on end and quite possibly stretch on throughout the rest of our mortal lives. Then, we would probably die alone in a cold, elderly care facility with no posterity to protect us or care about how we were treated in our final years. (yeah, I thought about a lot of horrible, dark, unimaginable things as well).

I had all of the fears, and concerns, and aches, and pains, of any woman who struggles with infertility, and then some (as I am clearly very dramatic).

And now I have a baby on the way.

Now I have answers about why my body does what it does and doesn’t do all the things that it doesn’t do. Now I know how to make it stop and listen and do what I so desperately want it to do. (a.k.a. make babies.)

I take Metformin every day, and then I can have babies.

That’s it.

Here we are 4 ½ years later…and that’s all it took.

We have searched year in and year out for this answer…and now I have it.

Now I feel bad.

I feel like an outsider.

Instead of being your friend who is going through infertility WITH you and suffering WITH you, and your friend who is one of the only people who really UNDERSTANDS how hard it is… I’m that annoying girl who is pregnant while you’re still not. I hate being that annoying girl who is pregnant while you’re still not.

So, I just wanted to say, I still understand.

I still remember the ache and longing for my unborn children. I still remember feeling betrayed by my body. I still remember feeling sad, and downtrodden and heartbroken when someone I loved turned up pregnant…and then feeling like the most wretched person on the planet for feeling those feelings and making everything about me…

I wouldn’t wish infertility on my worst enemy. And believe me, there are some people out there that I seriously don’t like…(okay, not really that many…) but I still wouldn’t wish it on them. It is ugly, powerful stuff.

But here’s the good news. It ends. Just like everything else, it ends.

Either you adopt, and find that it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever experienced and you thank God every day that He set a plan in motion that would bring this fantastic, miracle of a child into your life. A beautiful, perfect, “meant-to-be-yours” child that you would have never known if your dang uterus/ovaries/what-reproductive-organ-have-you had worked properly in the first place.

OR

You wait, and ache, and wait some more. Then you worry, and suffer, and worry some more. Then you grow in love. You grow in spiritual maturity. Your capacity for empathy and understanding reaches depths you never thought possible, and the love you have for your unborn children soars to unimaginable heights. Then you turn up pregnant, and the joy that you experience at that point is beyond anything that the written or spoken word can describe, and you’ll know that everything has been perfect, and for your good. And you wouldn’t change a day. You wouldn’t change a thing. Because something is changed in you and it is beautiful. And everything will feel stronger, more vibrant, more real, more tangible, and more beautiful.

OR

You die, and it doesn’t hurt anymore. And you can have lots of babies in the life to come. (I know, this one didn’t comfort me very much either…no matter how many people said it…)

So, I just wanted to say I’m here for you, and as I recently wrote to a good friend from high school who had questions about the Metformin,

I am like, the world's MOST OPEN BOOK! ha ha! It is doubtful that you could think of ANYTHING that I WOULDN'T be comfortable talking about. So, here is a little of my story for those of you wondering if Metformin might be the answer for you. My GREATEST advice would be: Listen to your body. I had felt for a while that “insulin resistance” was an issue for me, but I never told my doctors…and they never tested for it.

Turns out I was right.

I diagnosed myself about 3 years ago, but didn’t have the information I needed to take the next step. So talk to your doctors. Tell them about your “hunches.” If they blow you off, get a new doctor (I cannot s.t.a.n.d. “God-complex” doctors blech! Kick ‘em to the curb!) You know yourself better than anyone, and you have the divine right to inspiration on your own behalf.

Do what you can, follow divine guidance and inspiration, and after you’ve done those two things, let it go. (and then let it go again and again and again… as many times a day as you need to!) I had to let it go for two whole years, and I have to say, there was peace in letting go. AND the answer FOUND ME believe it or not. I wasn’t even looking for it.

My ovaries were making eggs, but NOT releasing them at the right time. They would either hold onto them until they turned into golf-ball-sized cysts, OR just hold onto them until they were no longer viable, and THEN release them and they would just flush out of my system. 2 years ago, we underwent a bunch of intense/invasive procedures to try and conceive, but none of them worked because the insulin resistance (which, neither of my fertility doctors checked or tested for) was getting in the way of release and implantation.

So, I showed up to my midwives for a regular yearly check up in October, not even looking or trying to get pregnant anymore, and my midwife Abby said: "Now why haven't you been able to conceive?" So I told her about my situation, and she said: "So, obviously you've already tried taking Metformin." and I was like "No! The Met-what!!!?" She was SHOCKED that it hadn't occurred to either of my doctors to try this.

So, I started the Metformin that day. She said it would take a full 30 days to re-regulate my system, and after that, I might get pregnant. And she was right. The very next time I ovulated after the 30 days were up, we conceived.

I hope that this information is helpful for someone out there! Metformin seems to have a crazy-high success rate for women with insulin resistance and/or Poly-Cystic Ovary Syndrome(PCOS).

Let me know if you have ANY questions (whether I know you or not!) you can email me at ldugovic@yahoo.com or you can ask your questions right in the comments section. I’m no expert, but I will tell you what I can and can also refer you to the smart women who have helped me!

Good Luck! I will be praying for ALL of you!



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2 comments:

The Browns said...

What a sweet post...I take Metformin too & I think it really helped me. I was off the pill for 2 1/2 years before I got pregnant. I'm already thinking I want another one someday & I want to start trying in a few years. I'm afraid it is going to take as long as it took us for the first! But, for now I'm going back on the pill. :)

Bon

crowley said...

Thanks for the chat. Hope to keep in touch with you. Thanks again!
--Robyn