Hooray! the scale has budged! After a month of plateau, the scale seems to have finally moved. I am into the 170's and it's not a fluke. It's been like this for a week, so I will take it as a good number.
I can't begin to tell you how relieved I am. It also was yet another lesson for me. For years, I yo-yo'ed between 185 - 195. I would get motivated, slowly lose weight...and never really make it lower than 185 or so. I was at a nice healthy weight for my height and bone structure at my wedding: 165. I felt good and my clothes fit. I was happy there. It was nice there. I want to go back there!!!
But platueas can get to the best of intentions. I have probably made my husband crazy with my crankiness and frustration with the scale., And no, I was not "building muscle" instead...All my measurements have pretty much halted too. And it was beating me down.
I wrote last of being strong. This challenge was another test of my strength. Was I going to give up, or keep fighting? I very nearly gave up. Whenever the kids requested pizza for lunch, it would tempt me. When they ask for dessert at night, it tempts me. But there comes a time in life when you must make a choice and hold yourself accountable. Yes, for some it can be really hard, but in the end, it all comes down to making a choice. "I couldn't help it" is just an excuse.
The weight is coming off at a snail's pace...roughly about 4 pounds a month or so. I will continue to be tested (insert my grumpy face here) But also, it can be an opportunity. One where I can look in the mirror, be proud of what I see, and find peace with myself. I am creating a healthy life for me and my family.
That's worth the challenge, isn't it?
By the way, I think the problem ultimately is I wasn't eating enough. Paleo makes you much less hungry...there are no sugar or carb cravings, and meals keep you pretty full. I often have to force myself to eat something at meal times. I am trying harder to hit my calorie count of about 1500 calories a day. Often times, I only hit 1000, but I am working on it.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
Strong
I've always been told I was strong.
Throughout my life, I've had to deal with a lot of issues that require strength so I suppose it's true, but a part of me always found a way to negate it. I was the younger of two kids most of my childhood, my older brother being retarded. Not the "Oh my gosh he is such a re-tard" kind retarded, but the he was born premature being the sole survivor of a set of twins retarded. I learned early on that kids teased kids like my brother and that I had to protect him. It wasn't something I thought about a lot, it was just was I was suppose to do. I never thought of it as being strong or noble...for me, it was part of the norm.
When I was 12 I was shocked to learned my mother was going to have a baby. My whole life I had begged for an older sister - hey, I was a *kid*...how was I suppose to know how it really worked?!. I was thrilled, until that faithful morning when my grandfather woke me up to take a call from my parents who had gone to the hospital in the middle of the night. I was breathless as I asked my dad "Is it a boy or a girl?" I had so wanted a sister! I was then shocked again at the quiet weeping I heard at the other end. And then I knew. Melissa had died.
I don't see myself as strong because all I really remember from that time is my desperate sobbing down the isle of that long church as they carried that little white coffin. I remembered thinking, I should be strong for my mom - she's the one that need comforting. But I was over come, I wasn't strong. And I couldn't let go of the three white roses I couldn't drop on her little white coffin. I held onto those roses for years until one day, I drove to the cemetery and finally left her roses by her grave. To this day, white roses make me think of my sister and who she might have been.
Fast forward to H.S. I've made no secret that my mother was always ill. For me, H.S. was all about wondering when the next ambulance would pull up to the house for my mom. I remember once waking to the commotion - my mom was delirious, throwing up all over herself and incredibly week. (In addition to diabetes, my mother had developed Chrohn's disease - this was before the heart issues and RA) i remember my dad shouting "take your mother while I call 911!" No sooner did he leave than over she went. I had no choice but to catch her, then try and clean the vomit off her before the paramedics arrive. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? I stayed with the baby (yes, my mom was able to go on and have another when I was almost 14) and take care of my big brother.
That became the norm. I remember often getting up in the night to change diapers when my parents didn't hear A. crying. I would cook what simple meals I could, and take care of the house during my mom's "episodes." By the time I was 16, I had a steady boyfriend that was sweet enough to take me on dates....with my 4 year sister tagging along. He's still one of the best people I know, and one of my biggest advocate that I was strong. I always told him he was crazy. I was just doing what needed doing. Really, I didn't have a choice.
In college, life presented more challenges. My parents paid the first year and half, and then I was on my own. I worked many jobs to pay my rent, food, tuition and books. I taught after school private lessons, worked retail, worked in the school admissions office...Anything I could find that was paying, and took out student loans. I remember times when I was hungry and I did without. But I knew to make a life for myself, I needed that degree, so I plugged on. In 5 years, I had my degree and a new fiancé.
Speaking of which, said fiance became ex-husband 5 years later. It was a foolish choice on my part. It shows how badly I felt about myself to choose the kind of man that I did. Who marries a man that screams at you that you are worthless? Strong people? If I was strong, why did I do that? But I was strong enough to get out, even if it meant giving up all rights to our house in exchange for my freedom. So I paid off any debt we had with out savings, and walked out with a suitcase, my car and whatever money was in my purse.
So "strongly", I started out on my own. I met two girls who had a 4 bedroom apartment...They would gladly let me share. I was happy to move in after staying with my parents for a few months. I did have a decent job and was starting to build up some bank account. That first week, I slept on the floor, with borrowed pillow from one of my new roomies. I soon went to IKEA, bought a bedroom set, and started to buy other necessities like towels and linens. It was a hard climb, mostly because I did not want to be a 27 year old divorcee. I knew I had to leave, but I was still sad and depressed. Who would want to marry me when I was divorced? Who does that? But I had made my IKEA bed, now it was time to lay in it.
I learned a lot about myself in those years though, and maybe found out I am tougher, and smarter than I thought. I knew to leave a life that was becoming dangerous for me. I knew that while my heart was broken for awhile, I could survive. And the most important lesson I learned was that I had worth simply because I was God's child. I did not need another person (man) to complete me, I was able and OK being just me. And I healed.
Meeting my husband almost 5 years later (yes, it took me that long to heal) was one of the best things to ever happen to me. I learned that real married life meant not being afraid, and that every little argument would not end in him threatening to divorce me. While we have taken some hits over the years, I am still grateful for what I think is wonderful life (cue the Jimmy stewart music....)
But those hits have taken their toll. Sure losing some jobs and having to move, and coming up with $25K to adopt our daughter was tough, but still very doable. And the adoption process - well, you need to have nerves of steel to go through that, but we did it together. Dealing with the loss of our unborn children and my fertility has been.....challenging. Once again, those old demons come out to haunt me. I picture that little white coffin from all those years ago and realize I have lost *my* children this time, and it batters my soul, like a hurricane batters a small ship on the ocean. I wonder what my children are like in heaven. Will they be children when I eventually meet them, or the adults they were meant to be? Time does dull the pain, but I beg to differ. Contrary to popular belief, time does not heal all wounds. Some wounds will always be tender when poked at.
I never knew how much one person could love another until I had my first child. His being born opened up an entirely new world for me. I would literally do anything to protect my children, even if it meant giving up my own life. I've had to fight for them in so many ways, and I never thought twice about it. Fight for Josh at his school, fight for insurance and equal medical care for adopted Katelyn, fight Noah's life threatening allergies that we keep finding the hard way... But all worth the fight, and never something I ever think twice about.
I don't ask myself in those situations if I am strong, I just do it, because that's what needs to be done. When Noah was a newborn in the hospital, and attached to halter monitor with wires hanging off him, I never ever considered not nursing him. I wondered how to do it for a split second then went to work. It wasn't even a consideration to give up. It's not even a consideration to not protect them. That's my job in life, and I do it better than anyone else can, because I love them more than anyone else can (save my husband of course).
I think we are all stronger than we know. In college, I remember crying because I was so hungry...but I survived (after some really bad cheap cans of tomato soup) and I am here today. After my divorce, I thought my life was over, but I am here with a better life than I could have imagined. I did that. In the hospital with Noah, sure I called my husband crying every 6 hours when they changed the prognosis from heart failure, to twisted intestines and so on and so on... But I spent every moment with I'm in the special care nursery, nursed him, fought for him side by side with my strong husband.
I. did. that.
I almost deleted this whole blog last week. I wanted to write the entry "I was a fool for even thinking I could make this work" and then delete it all. Just give up. The sad and alone part of me just wants to write of my grief and pain....but I can't. You see, there's this little part of me that has the slightest foothold, like a crack of light shining into a dark room. The "what if" in me that just can't make me let go, the part that pushes me out of bed in the morning to go feed my kids. A part of me that says "you are strong, you can *do* this."
Maybe, just maybe, that old friend was right.
Throughout my life, I've had to deal with a lot of issues that require strength so I suppose it's true, but a part of me always found a way to negate it. I was the younger of two kids most of my childhood, my older brother being retarded. Not the "Oh my gosh he is such a re-tard" kind retarded, but the he was born premature being the sole survivor of a set of twins retarded. I learned early on that kids teased kids like my brother and that I had to protect him. It wasn't something I thought about a lot, it was just was I was suppose to do. I never thought of it as being strong or noble...for me, it was part of the norm.
When I was 12 I was shocked to learned my mother was going to have a baby. My whole life I had begged for an older sister - hey, I was a *kid*...how was I suppose to know how it really worked?!. I was thrilled, until that faithful morning when my grandfather woke me up to take a call from my parents who had gone to the hospital in the middle of the night. I was breathless as I asked my dad "Is it a boy or a girl?" I had so wanted a sister! I was then shocked again at the quiet weeping I heard at the other end. And then I knew. Melissa had died.
I don't see myself as strong because all I really remember from that time is my desperate sobbing down the isle of that long church as they carried that little white coffin. I remembered thinking, I should be strong for my mom - she's the one that need comforting. But I was over come, I wasn't strong. And I couldn't let go of the three white roses I couldn't drop on her little white coffin. I held onto those roses for years until one day, I drove to the cemetery and finally left her roses by her grave. To this day, white roses make me think of my sister and who she might have been.
Fast forward to H.S. I've made no secret that my mother was always ill. For me, H.S. was all about wondering when the next ambulance would pull up to the house for my mom. I remember once waking to the commotion - my mom was delirious, throwing up all over herself and incredibly week. (In addition to diabetes, my mother had developed Chrohn's disease - this was before the heart issues and RA) i remember my dad shouting "take your mother while I call 911!" No sooner did he leave than over she went. I had no choice but to catch her, then try and clean the vomit off her before the paramedics arrive. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? I stayed with the baby (yes, my mom was able to go on and have another when I was almost 14) and take care of my big brother.
That became the norm. I remember often getting up in the night to change diapers when my parents didn't hear A. crying. I would cook what simple meals I could, and take care of the house during my mom's "episodes." By the time I was 16, I had a steady boyfriend that was sweet enough to take me on dates....with my 4 year sister tagging along. He's still one of the best people I know, and one of my biggest advocate that I was strong. I always told him he was crazy. I was just doing what needed doing. Really, I didn't have a choice.
In college, life presented more challenges. My parents paid the first year and half, and then I was on my own. I worked many jobs to pay my rent, food, tuition and books. I taught after school private lessons, worked retail, worked in the school admissions office...Anything I could find that was paying, and took out student loans. I remember times when I was hungry and I did without. But I knew to make a life for myself, I needed that degree, so I plugged on. In 5 years, I had my degree and a new fiancé.
Speaking of which, said fiance became ex-husband 5 years later. It was a foolish choice on my part. It shows how badly I felt about myself to choose the kind of man that I did. Who marries a man that screams at you that you are worthless? Strong people? If I was strong, why did I do that? But I was strong enough to get out, even if it meant giving up all rights to our house in exchange for my freedom. So I paid off any debt we had with out savings, and walked out with a suitcase, my car and whatever money was in my purse.
So "strongly", I started out on my own. I met two girls who had a 4 bedroom apartment...They would gladly let me share. I was happy to move in after staying with my parents for a few months. I did have a decent job and was starting to build up some bank account. That first week, I slept on the floor, with borrowed pillow from one of my new roomies. I soon went to IKEA, bought a bedroom set, and started to buy other necessities like towels and linens. It was a hard climb, mostly because I did not want to be a 27 year old divorcee. I knew I had to leave, but I was still sad and depressed. Who would want to marry me when I was divorced? Who does that? But I had made my IKEA bed, now it was time to lay in it.
I learned a lot about myself in those years though, and maybe found out I am tougher, and smarter than I thought. I knew to leave a life that was becoming dangerous for me. I knew that while my heart was broken for awhile, I could survive. And the most important lesson I learned was that I had worth simply because I was God's child. I did not need another person (man) to complete me, I was able and OK being just me. And I healed.
Meeting my husband almost 5 years later (yes, it took me that long to heal) was one of the best things to ever happen to me. I learned that real married life meant not being afraid, and that every little argument would not end in him threatening to divorce me. While we have taken some hits over the years, I am still grateful for what I think is wonderful life (cue the Jimmy stewart music....)
But those hits have taken their toll. Sure losing some jobs and having to move, and coming up with $25K to adopt our daughter was tough, but still very doable. And the adoption process - well, you need to have nerves of steel to go through that, but we did it together. Dealing with the loss of our unborn children and my fertility has been.....challenging. Once again, those old demons come out to haunt me. I picture that little white coffin from all those years ago and realize I have lost *my* children this time, and it batters my soul, like a hurricane batters a small ship on the ocean. I wonder what my children are like in heaven. Will they be children when I eventually meet them, or the adults they were meant to be? Time does dull the pain, but I beg to differ. Contrary to popular belief, time does not heal all wounds. Some wounds will always be tender when poked at.
I never knew how much one person could love another until I had my first child. His being born opened up an entirely new world for me. I would literally do anything to protect my children, even if it meant giving up my own life. I've had to fight for them in so many ways, and I never thought twice about it. Fight for Josh at his school, fight for insurance and equal medical care for adopted Katelyn, fight Noah's life threatening allergies that we keep finding the hard way... But all worth the fight, and never something I ever think twice about.
I don't ask myself in those situations if I am strong, I just do it, because that's what needs to be done. When Noah was a newborn in the hospital, and attached to halter monitor with wires hanging off him, I never ever considered not nursing him. I wondered how to do it for a split second then went to work. It wasn't even a consideration to give up. It's not even a consideration to not protect them. That's my job in life, and I do it better than anyone else can, because I love them more than anyone else can (save my husband of course).
I think we are all stronger than we know. In college, I remember crying because I was so hungry...but I survived (after some really bad cheap cans of tomato soup) and I am here today. After my divorce, I thought my life was over, but I am here with a better life than I could have imagined. I did that. In the hospital with Noah, sure I called my husband crying every 6 hours when they changed the prognosis from heart failure, to twisted intestines and so on and so on... But I spent every moment with I'm in the special care nursery, nursed him, fought for him side by side with my strong husband.
I. did. that.
I almost deleted this whole blog last week. I wanted to write the entry "I was a fool for even thinking I could make this work" and then delete it all. Just give up. The sad and alone part of me just wants to write of my grief and pain....but I can't. You see, there's this little part of me that has the slightest foothold, like a crack of light shining into a dark room. The "what if" in me that just can't make me let go, the part that pushes me out of bed in the morning to go feed my kids. A part of me that says "you are strong, you can *do* this."
Maybe, just maybe, that old friend was right.
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Holding on
Oh. My. Gosh.
This is just crazy now. I was so sure it was the medication. Now, I have no idea what the heck is going on with my body. No wonder women with PCOS want to just regularly tear their hair out. Granted, my body has been through a lot with the medications, and the OHSS, but really? Seriously?!
Why I am so crazed?! Yep you guessed it, I am back to 184. I gained 2 pounds two days ago, and despite "tightening up" and pounding water since then, I've gained now a third pound leading me right back to this damn plateau again.
It seems I always get stuck, right here in the 180's.... I never get past it. I am sick of being heavy! I know I will never be that tiny little six...that's just not how my body was ever meant to be. But would an 8 or a 10 be so bad? I am wearing so many of my 12's, but I hate going dress shopping and picking up those 14's and 16's for more "room in the middle." (PCOS often causes weight gain in the stomach)
What more am I suppose to do? I am not eating more than 1400 calories a day. I am exercising. Following Paleo....And I have been stuck here at this weight for a month. Granted, I had that bad time over vacation, but is less than one week of cheating so bad? Is this really just cause for my crimes?
I am beginning to feel like food is my enemy. For a long time, I've felt betrayed by my own body, but now I am feeling like food is just as much my enemy as my body. What do they call that.. "frienemies?" That's food and my body..frienmies. They appear to be my allies, but really, they are just out to frustrate me and get me down. I've had little sympathy for those that say they've tried, but they just can't lose the weight. I simply didn't believe it.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there are just some of us who can't do it. For days, I've looked at the leftover snacks from vacation, and wonder...what's the point? Why not just have that pop tart or Joe Joe cookie I'm craving? Not having them is Not helping my cause.
But what really is my cause? As beat down and frustrated as I feel, I also know deep inside me heart, I just can't just give up. Comforting my sadness with food is not the answer. I need to keep feeling this pain and not bury it under a pile of cookies. I need to remember there are other reasons besides not wanting to look like a potato sack in my bridesmaids dress. Granted, I am not thin, and I am not pregnant. But am I healthier? I truly believe yes, I am.
As I did my workout yesterday, I felt something I don't ever feel anymore...strong, powerful and in control. I felt like I could finally make my body, the one that always betrays me, do exactly what I wanted it to do. For that one hour, I wasn't sad and I didn't feel the hole in my soul. I could concentrate on what was right about me, what was strong. Whereas running sprints before would take my breath away, make my heart pound and leave my muscles sore for weeks...now those sprints just get my heart pumping a bit, and leaves some soreness in my legs for just a day or so.
And for just that one hour, I set aside that ever present pain in my heart when I think of my lost babies, both those already lost, and those I can't seem to conceive. The sadness that weighs me down so many hours of my day, is lifted.
My kids. My family. They mean everything and I will not be a physical and/or financial disabled burden to them. I have to just hold on to that. I don't want them to turn to food for comfort when they are adults. I don't want them to resent me because I can't crawl on the floor with their kids, or play at the park with them or go to Disney World. Or because I am just not around for them because I am dead, or constantly on the brink of dying. I want better for them, I want normal.
So I am holding on by a thread...but love for my family can make me hold on to that one thread pretty damn hard.
This is just crazy now. I was so sure it was the medication. Now, I have no idea what the heck is going on with my body. No wonder women with PCOS want to just regularly tear their hair out. Granted, my body has been through a lot with the medications, and the OHSS, but really? Seriously?!
Why I am so crazed?! Yep you guessed it, I am back to 184. I gained 2 pounds two days ago, and despite "tightening up" and pounding water since then, I've gained now a third pound leading me right back to this damn plateau again.
It seems I always get stuck, right here in the 180's.... I never get past it. I am sick of being heavy! I know I will never be that tiny little six...that's just not how my body was ever meant to be. But would an 8 or a 10 be so bad? I am wearing so many of my 12's, but I hate going dress shopping and picking up those 14's and 16's for more "room in the middle." (PCOS often causes weight gain in the stomach)
What more am I suppose to do? I am not eating more than 1400 calories a day. I am exercising. Following Paleo....And I have been stuck here at this weight for a month. Granted, I had that bad time over vacation, but is less than one week of cheating so bad? Is this really just cause for my crimes?
I am beginning to feel like food is my enemy. For a long time, I've felt betrayed by my own body, but now I am feeling like food is just as much my enemy as my body. What do they call that.. "frienemies?" That's food and my body..frienmies. They appear to be my allies, but really, they are just out to frustrate me and get me down. I've had little sympathy for those that say they've tried, but they just can't lose the weight. I simply didn't believe it.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there are just some of us who can't do it. For days, I've looked at the leftover snacks from vacation, and wonder...what's the point? Why not just have that pop tart or Joe Joe cookie I'm craving? Not having them is Not helping my cause.
But what really is my cause? As beat down and frustrated as I feel, I also know deep inside me heart, I just can't just give up. Comforting my sadness with food is not the answer. I need to keep feeling this pain and not bury it under a pile of cookies. I need to remember there are other reasons besides not wanting to look like a potato sack in my bridesmaids dress. Granted, I am not thin, and I am not pregnant. But am I healthier? I truly believe yes, I am.
As I did my workout yesterday, I felt something I don't ever feel anymore...strong, powerful and in control. I felt like I could finally make my body, the one that always betrays me, do exactly what I wanted it to do. For that one hour, I wasn't sad and I didn't feel the hole in my soul. I could concentrate on what was right about me, what was strong. Whereas running sprints before would take my breath away, make my heart pound and leave my muscles sore for weeks...now those sprints just get my heart pumping a bit, and leaves some soreness in my legs for just a day or so.
And for just that one hour, I set aside that ever present pain in my heart when I think of my lost babies, both those already lost, and those I can't seem to conceive. The sadness that weighs me down so many hours of my day, is lifted.
My kids. My family. They mean everything and I will not be a physical and/or financial disabled burden to them. I have to just hold on to that. I don't want them to turn to food for comfort when they are adults. I don't want them to resent me because I can't crawl on the floor with their kids, or play at the park with them or go to Disney World. Or because I am just not around for them because I am dead, or constantly on the brink of dying. I want better for them, I want normal.
So I am holding on by a thread...but love for my family can make me hold on to that one thread pretty damn hard.
Friday, 12 August 2011
Making my way
So I was really right. It had to have been the medication that was causing the plateau/weight gain. I am not only back down to the 182 I was so proud of, I've lost another pound getting me down to 181 and a 27 pound lost.
I am still feeling the pain of my over-stimmed ovary. This makes exercise hard. I have not done any weight resistance this week, which is frustrating. But the cramping and pulling I am feeling makes it clear I would be foolish to try it. But I am eating clean and after a week of vacation, the scale is showing it's appreciation via good numbers.
I am just dying to know if I am going to ovulate on my own. I want to kick myself for going off program last week... will it have messed up my chances to ovulate on my own this month? Can 4 days un-do everything I have done over the past 2 1/2 months?
And who's to say going Paleo will even help me ovulate on my own after a lifetime of annovulatory cycles...
So like so many other TTC's out there, I am waiting....But in the mean time, I am losing, and that's a real win.
I am still feeling the pain of my over-stimmed ovary. This makes exercise hard. I have not done any weight resistance this week, which is frustrating. But the cramping and pulling I am feeling makes it clear I would be foolish to try it. But I am eating clean and after a week of vacation, the scale is showing it's appreciation via good numbers.
I am just dying to know if I am going to ovulate on my own. I want to kick myself for going off program last week... will it have messed up my chances to ovulate on my own this month? Can 4 days un-do everything I have done over the past 2 1/2 months?
And who's to say going Paleo will even help me ovulate on my own after a lifetime of annovulatory cycles...
So like so many other TTC's out there, I am waiting....But in the mean time, I am losing, and that's a real win.
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
Bouncing Back
So I kind of made a bit of a fib yesterday....a lie of omission if you will. I mentioned I was afraid of getting on the scale. That's true - but only because I had weighed myself the Friday I came home for my scan...and I had gained 5 pounds.
How depressing. Way to kick me when I'm already down.
But I was determined to start fresh after vacation and start fresh I did. I ate mostly clean on Sunday upon our return, and completely clean yesterday. It felt good, and while just a little hungry (or perhaps in sugar withdrawal?) was not tempted to eat grains, sugar or dairy at all.
So this morning, I decided it was time to face the music and see exactly what I was up against. I mean, I lost it once, I can lose it again, right? Sometimes that big number on the scale is the motivator you need to play it smart, right?
I was down 6 pounds, less than what I started vacation with, and almost back to my 182 I was so proud of. What a shock, and very telling. I didn't lose 6 pounds over night. The fertility meds were clearly at work as I suspected. Again, I think a huge credit goes to Paleo that I only gained a bit, and lost right away. And now that I am not allowed to take them this month, my body is having a chance to bounce back.
I fully hope and intend to take fertility drugs next cycle, so the goal this month is to hunker down, exercise correctly, eat smart and get as much weight off as I can. Go me.
How depressing. Way to kick me when I'm already down.
But I was determined to start fresh after vacation and start fresh I did. I ate mostly clean on Sunday upon our return, and completely clean yesterday. It felt good, and while just a little hungry (or perhaps in sugar withdrawal?) was not tempted to eat grains, sugar or dairy at all.
So this morning, I decided it was time to face the music and see exactly what I was up against. I mean, I lost it once, I can lose it again, right? Sometimes that big number on the scale is the motivator you need to play it smart, right?
I was down 6 pounds, less than what I started vacation with, and almost back to my 182 I was so proud of. What a shock, and very telling. I didn't lose 6 pounds over night. The fertility meds were clearly at work as I suspected. Again, I think a huge credit goes to Paleo that I only gained a bit, and lost right away. And now that I am not allowed to take them this month, my body is having a chance to bounce back.
I fully hope and intend to take fertility drugs next cycle, so the goal this month is to hunker down, exercise correctly, eat smart and get as much weight off as I can. Go me.
Monday, 8 August 2011
Still standing
The thing about blogging is, once you "take a break" it's sometimes hard to start again. So I put it off, and put it off, and well, I wasn't sure where to start again.
But I am here and still standing.
Barely.
There's so much to tell that it may take a while... So sit back, grab a cup of coffee, or hell, splurge and get a bag of popcorn and and take your time....
The last few weeks have been stressful, to put it mildly. Dh went to Vietnam on business, and to say I missed him would be an understatement. I felt like a part of me was empty and it was very difficult emotionally, much more than I expected. But that's good news, right? To miss your spouse so deeply after 10 years of marriage, just shows how much we still love each other.
During all this time, I have been responsible for lots of little things, that have just taken up every inch of my time...things like centerpieces and a year's worth of crafts for my MOPS group (I am one of the craft coordinators on the steering team), invitations for my sister's bridal shower, centerpieces and favors for above mentioned shower, summer dressy clothing for my entire family for the destination wedding this fall (I mean, where am I going to find short sleeved boy's dress shirts or white patent leather shoes for K in October?!)
And did I mentioned the sadness and stress of announcing the closing of my scrapbooking store? That's a whole other story...
Then of course *dramatic sigh* has been Paleo and Pcos (and of course, TTC). I hit a major plateau....I went down to 182 for a whopping 26 pound weight loss, then gained two pounds and stayed there....for weeks. I now know that I am probably one of the few whom clomid causes weight gain. I think it's to Paleo's credit that I did not gain the 10 - 15 pounds I have read others gained (and I now realized I have gained in the past).
But I didn't know it then, and man, was it frustrating! I was doing everything right...eating clean, exercising almost daily (not too much, just lots of daily walking with weight resistance and some sprints thrown in a couple of times a week). When you are losing, the sacrifice is worth it, but when you gain two pounds, and then sit there for a long time you think, what the hell am I doing this for? Because believe me, you all would know if I managed to get pregnant - I'd be shouting that from the roof tops! But nothing but negative for this pcos chick...and still feeling chubby, makes you just want to give up.
So then I go on vacation. It should have been relaxing, but it was really just lots of stress for me. More laundry and packing than I ever care to see, and worrying about paying for all the expensive things the kids want to do, then all the extra driving. I have to drive the kids down to the shore the week before because my in-laws like to take them by themselves for a few days. (they had the house the two weeks prior to our week) So pack clothes for them for 2 weeks, drive down to the Jersey shore, then drive back with my youngest. Then 4 days later drive down again while DH, youngest and I go down to join them.
BUT....there's a glitch. I am scheduled to get AF (that's aunt flo or my period for you non TTC's)....while I am down there. Which means I need a cd 3 baseline scan (ultrasound) if we are going to do another clomid cycle this month. So I get to tell DH that I need to leave one night and come back the next day or skip the cycle. I think, he's going to go ballistic, but he doesn't....he's a good sport about it thankfully. But the night before we even leave involves a race around town trying to find a pharmacy that has all my clomid in stock, because I am scheduled to take another truck load of it again - 24 pills...150 for 8 days...enough for a horse I believe, starting the day of my scan.
So sure enough mid week, AF starts and I schedule the scan. We had taken the kids to the boardwalk for rides and all the junk (cotton candy, ice cream, Johnson's caramel corn, fudge, corn dogs, french fries....) their little bodies can handle and then we head back to the house so I can head back home. We get the kids settled and I start driving (again...) home arriving around midnight.
I get up at 6:30 for my 8:00 appt and am on time. I think this will be quick and easy...like I've done a million times before with Josh and Noah in the past. Blood work, quick scan and I start on the clomid that night.. WRONG! One of my ovaries is enlarged, over stimmed from last month's meds. This means I can't stim it this cycle without serious repercussions. In some cases, OHSS can be fatal.
I feel crushed and the desperation starts to sink in even more. Once again, I feel like it's just so unfair. Why do I have to go through this? Why couldn't my baby have lived? My belly should be round and full and getting ready to deliver... Now, after months of treatments and heartbreaking negative tests and starting a whole new life style and more vitamins I could ever count, I can't even TRY?! I mean that's just so unfair. I cry all the way back to the shore. Driving back had been a total waste, and I will lose yet another month (possible two because we have a destination wedding Oct 4th)
And I give up. Another little piece of my heart dies and I give up.I let the hurt course though me and think my dreams are not meant to be. And I eat. The truth is, with the last negative test, I had already given up a bit. One again I tear down myself and accuse my body of being broken and worthless. Why was I born this way? Why do I have to deal with this?
A women in my MOPS group just has her 7th child and I've been asked to bring her a meal. How do I face her? Next month I have to go to my SIL's baby shower...who is due the same time I would have been. I will look at her perfect round belly and compare it to my flat broken belly and it just hurts. Why can't that be me? Why can't I just get pregnant when I want to? There are times when i come to peace with the way I am and other times, like now, it taunts me like a school yard bully.
So I eat very bad things... cinnamon roll with lot of sugary cream cheese frosting, ice cream, caramel corn, pizza, cookies, smores...all kinds of things. I even start up with dairy again. Not all at once, mind you, but over the 10 days I am there. And the pain starts.
Not the kind in my heart, I think I've established my emotional pain...No, I am talking about the physical pain. It starts with my shoulder, then moves to my neck and by the trip home, I am popping tylenol and/or excedrine migraine pills just to keep the pain in my head at bay. My hair starts falling out again too and I am fatigued beyond comprehension.
Well shoot. That means they are right. Crud, I was kind of hoping they weren't. I *like* great big cinnamon rolls with lots of cream cheese frosting. But I really don't like the way I feel, and I've got enough pain in my heart right now - I don't need the pain in my body as well.
So I am still standing, but barely. But really...barely is all you need to put one foot in front of the other and start again. I have been too afraid to step on the scale, but I will not be afraid to step in the kitchen. I began eating clean again today, and I have no desire to "cheat." I want to feel good again. I under estimated how much my body had been healing over the last few months...how well I was actually feeling. I resented not having the burst of energy other's reported. I didn 't realize not being tired all the time was the burst of energy they were talking about! Health had snuck up on me, and I didn't even know it.
It stops. I am, regrettably, a true believer now. I may not really like paleo, but pregnant or not, I truly believe it's the right choice for me. And maybe, just maybe, once I heal my body again physically, I can start to put my heart back together again.
But I am here and still standing.
Barely.
There's so much to tell that it may take a while... So sit back, grab a cup of coffee, or hell, splurge and get a bag of popcorn and and take your time....
The last few weeks have been stressful, to put it mildly. Dh went to Vietnam on business, and to say I missed him would be an understatement. I felt like a part of me was empty and it was very difficult emotionally, much more than I expected. But that's good news, right? To miss your spouse so deeply after 10 years of marriage, just shows how much we still love each other.
During all this time, I have been responsible for lots of little things, that have just taken up every inch of my time...things like centerpieces and a year's worth of crafts for my MOPS group (I am one of the craft coordinators on the steering team), invitations for my sister's bridal shower, centerpieces and favors for above mentioned shower, summer dressy clothing for my entire family for the destination wedding this fall (I mean, where am I going to find short sleeved boy's dress shirts or white patent leather shoes for K in October?!)
And did I mentioned the sadness and stress of announcing the closing of my scrapbooking store? That's a whole other story...
Then of course *dramatic sigh* has been Paleo and Pcos (and of course, TTC). I hit a major plateau....I went down to 182 for a whopping 26 pound weight loss, then gained two pounds and stayed there....for weeks. I now know that I am probably one of the few whom clomid causes weight gain. I think it's to Paleo's credit that I did not gain the 10 - 15 pounds I have read others gained (and I now realized I have gained in the past).
But I didn't know it then, and man, was it frustrating! I was doing everything right...eating clean, exercising almost daily (not too much, just lots of daily walking with weight resistance and some sprints thrown in a couple of times a week). When you are losing, the sacrifice is worth it, but when you gain two pounds, and then sit there for a long time you think, what the hell am I doing this for? Because believe me, you all would know if I managed to get pregnant - I'd be shouting that from the roof tops! But nothing but negative for this pcos chick...and still feeling chubby, makes you just want to give up.
So then I go on vacation. It should have been relaxing, but it was really just lots of stress for me. More laundry and packing than I ever care to see, and worrying about paying for all the expensive things the kids want to do, then all the extra driving. I have to drive the kids down to the shore the week before because my in-laws like to take them by themselves for a few days. (they had the house the two weeks prior to our week) So pack clothes for them for 2 weeks, drive down to the Jersey shore, then drive back with my youngest. Then 4 days later drive down again while DH, youngest and I go down to join them.
BUT....there's a glitch. I am scheduled to get AF (that's aunt flo or my period for you non TTC's)....while I am down there. Which means I need a cd 3 baseline scan (ultrasound) if we are going to do another clomid cycle this month. So I get to tell DH that I need to leave one night and come back the next day or skip the cycle. I think, he's going to go ballistic, but he doesn't....he's a good sport about it thankfully. But the night before we even leave involves a race around town trying to find a pharmacy that has all my clomid in stock, because I am scheduled to take another truck load of it again - 24 pills...150 for 8 days...enough for a horse I believe, starting the day of my scan.
So sure enough mid week, AF starts and I schedule the scan. We had taken the kids to the boardwalk for rides and all the junk (cotton candy, ice cream, Johnson's caramel corn, fudge, corn dogs, french fries....) their little bodies can handle and then we head back to the house so I can head back home. We get the kids settled and I start driving (again...) home arriving around midnight.
I get up at 6:30 for my 8:00 appt and am on time. I think this will be quick and easy...like I've done a million times before with Josh and Noah in the past. Blood work, quick scan and I start on the clomid that night.. WRONG! One of my ovaries is enlarged, over stimmed from last month's meds. This means I can't stim it this cycle without serious repercussions. In some cases, OHSS can be fatal.
I feel crushed and the desperation starts to sink in even more. Once again, I feel like it's just so unfair. Why do I have to go through this? Why couldn't my baby have lived? My belly should be round and full and getting ready to deliver... Now, after months of treatments and heartbreaking negative tests and starting a whole new life style and more vitamins I could ever count, I can't even TRY?! I mean that's just so unfair. I cry all the way back to the shore. Driving back had been a total waste, and I will lose yet another month (possible two because we have a destination wedding Oct 4th)
And I give up. Another little piece of my heart dies and I give up.I let the hurt course though me and think my dreams are not meant to be. And I eat. The truth is, with the last negative test, I had already given up a bit. One again I tear down myself and accuse my body of being broken and worthless. Why was I born this way? Why do I have to deal with this?
A women in my MOPS group just has her 7th child and I've been asked to bring her a meal. How do I face her? Next month I have to go to my SIL's baby shower...who is due the same time I would have been. I will look at her perfect round belly and compare it to my flat broken belly and it just hurts. Why can't that be me? Why can't I just get pregnant when I want to? There are times when i come to peace with the way I am and other times, like now, it taunts me like a school yard bully.
So I eat very bad things... cinnamon roll with lot of sugary cream cheese frosting, ice cream, caramel corn, pizza, cookies, smores...all kinds of things. I even start up with dairy again. Not all at once, mind you, but over the 10 days I am there. And the pain starts.
Not the kind in my heart, I think I've established my emotional pain...No, I am talking about the physical pain. It starts with my shoulder, then moves to my neck and by the trip home, I am popping tylenol and/or excedrine migraine pills just to keep the pain in my head at bay. My hair starts falling out again too and I am fatigued beyond comprehension.
Well shoot. That means they are right. Crud, I was kind of hoping they weren't. I *like* great big cinnamon rolls with lots of cream cheese frosting. But I really don't like the way I feel, and I've got enough pain in my heart right now - I don't need the pain in my body as well.
So I am still standing, but barely. But really...barely is all you need to put one foot in front of the other and start again. I have been too afraid to step on the scale, but I will not be afraid to step in the kitchen. I began eating clean again today, and I have no desire to "cheat." I want to feel good again. I under estimated how much my body had been healing over the last few months...how well I was actually feeling. I resented not having the burst of energy other's reported. I didn 't realize not being tired all the time was the burst of energy they were talking about! Health had snuck up on me, and I didn't even know it.
It stops. I am, regrettably, a true believer now. I may not really like paleo, but pregnant or not, I truly believe it's the right choice for me. And maybe, just maybe, once I heal my body again physically, I can start to put my heart back together again.
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