The Honeymoon Is Over

What a difference a good night’s sleep makes.  Yesterday, I was in rough shape.  The multiple nights in a row of only a couple of hours of sleep had taken its toll physically and emotionally.  Then, last night, something amazing happened.  I slept…the WHOLE night.  And when I woke up this morning, I felt wonderful.  The thoughts that have been triggering my anxiety lately were still there, but I was able to let them go quickly.  I smiled and joked with my husband this morning, instead of scuffling around him in zombie-mode like I have been the last few mornings.  I sang with the radio on my way into work.  It was lovely (not my singing…but the happy commute).

And then I went to a doctor’s appointment.  When the fertility center did my second beta test, on Monday, they called and let me know that I needed to start thyroid medication because my tests showed that my thyroid was underactive.  The only problem is, I’m already on thyroid medication for hypothyroidism and I have been for over 10 years.  Apparently, even being a little bit pregnant can make your thyroid go crazy, so I had to set up another round of blood work and an appointment with my primary care doctor to follow-up on the thyroid issue.  Yesterday, the lab drew blood to test my cholesterol, blood sugar, insulin level (gestational diabetes and Type 2 diabetes runs in my family, so we test my thyroid and insulin each month), and thyroid function.  Today, when I saw my doctor, she actually hugged me and squealed a little because she was so happy that I am finally pregnant.  But then, she looked at her computer and the mood turned somber.

One of my two thyroid tests shows that my level is three times what it should be (indicating a severely underactive thyroid) while the other thyroid test came back completely normal.  Both tests were normal last month, at my check-up.  Also, my insulin level is already just over the normal range and my blood sugar came back very low.  Usually, high insulin means high blood sugar, so my lab result is a bit contradictory and is completely different from last month’s lab work.  On the bright side, my cholesterol is good even though my weight is not.  Ultimately, the doctor said that, because I am pregnant, she isn’t comfortable interpreting these results and I need to start seeing an endocrinologist.  I also need to pay attention to what, how much and how often I am eating because I am not consistently getting enough nutrients if my blood sugar is so low.  The doctor recommended that I start journaling what I eat and then check where my calories are coming from so I can make healthier choices.  

I knew this was coming.  I’m starting a pregnancy obese, with a family history of gestational diabetes.  Of course I was going to have to start policing my food better and making healthier choices.  But I just thought I would get a slightly longer honeymoon period…maybe one month when I could eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, 100% guilt-free, because I’m pregnant.  Apparently, the honeymoon is already over and although it pains me to do so, I will be doing a thorough cupboard and refrigerator cleaning very soon…ditching many of the “vice” foods I bought to “celebrate” being pregnant.

Now I need to decide how much I want to tell The Prince.  He is all into body building and drinking protein shakes, etc.  He is REALLY good about being self-controlled with his nutrition and he is REALLY good about being an inspector of anything I put in my mouth, if he has a reason to be.  I don’t tell him when I’m dieting anymore because I want to jam my doughnut right in his face when he says “Are you supposed to be having that?”  Guilt is not helpful to me when I’m struggling to do what I need to do.  I’ve tried to explain to him that I need support, not a food policeman.  But he is who he is, and he can’t change his response to my behavior anymore than I can change my behavior.

So…do I tell him?  The stakes are higher this time, so maybe I need the accountability in all its ugliness.  On the other hand, if I feel guilty, I will be miserable and might overeat in response.  I feel like I should tell him because he can be helpful about eliminating the foods we shouldn’t have in the house (getting rid of temptation) and because, God forbid I have a hypoglycemic attack, he should know what is going on.  But I feel like I shouldn’t tell him because he is going to worry about the situation and might blame me if something goes wrong with the pregnancy.  What would you do???



There Lived A Beautiful Princess...but she got fat on infertility meds

“Inside some of us is a thin person struggling to get out, but they can usually be sedated with a few pieces of chocolate” ~Author Unknown

The third phrase in a fairy tale is frequently something to the effect of “there lived a beautiful princess.”  Beauty is a tough thing when you’re dealing with infertility.  I’ve taken an injection of HcG, the pregnancy hormone, lots of times to trigger ovulation for an IUI or IVF.  No one has ever said to me, during this process, “Oh…You are positively glowing.”  No.  Usually I get a comment from my husband like “Sweats, again?”   To which I have to shamefully reply, “I’ve really grown to appreciate elastic waistbands.”

I don’t know about the rest of you, but infertility has not been kind to my waistline.  In fact, this weekend, I reached a milestone…and not a good one.  As of Saturday, I am officially 60 pounds heavier than I was when I first started treating for infertility.  That’s right…not a typo…60!!!  And, to paint the picture in all its ugliness, I was not thin when I started this journey.  In fact, my first RE was on my case about my weight from the beginning, repeatedly telling me how much being overweight would hurt my chances of being pregnant (needless to say, he is no longer my RE).  I won’t give my exact weight to you…even in an anonymous blog I am too ashamed to share that little tidbit.  But the number that stared back at me from my scale’s display screen on Saturday was like a big slap in the face.  And I might have needed it.

I’ve been in denial about the weight I’ve been packing on for a year or two now.  I don’t lie about the fact that Ben & Jerry have become two of my closest friends.  How could I?  But I have lied to myself and to others about the extent of the problem.  Food has become my drug of choice and with infertility, there are a lot of emotions to be numbed.  Some nights I can feel sad, angry, scared and bored all at the same time.  Those are typically pizza nights.  I never reach for a salad in times of despair. 

So, reaching Saturday’s milestone made me face up to the fact that, not only has my weight been on a steady incline since finding out getting pregnant wasn’t going to be easy, I have also been on a binge for a long time.  I am eating enough calories for two or three people a day and I truly didn’t even realize it.  I tried to trace the binge back to its beginnings and, to my astonishment, I can recall the exact moment that it started.

A few days before Thanksgiving, I received the news that my IVF cycle was cancelled because, after 24 days on stimulating medications, I still had no follicles growing.  I was devastated.  I went for a drive to gather my thoughts and when I got home, I had a text message from my husband’s younger (and only) sister, announcing that she was pregnant with the family’s first grandchild.  I literally threw-up when I read the message.  I love my sister-in-law.  She rocks!  And I am really happy for her, but her pregnancy has been devastating to me.  She got married a year and a half ago and she and her husband had decided to wait to have a baby until they bought a house.  I was so relieved when I heard about their plan because I thought “Well, at least we’ll have chance to get pregnant first.”  Awful, I know…but I couldn’t get past the fantasy about having the first grandchild.  So, my sister-in-law and her husband closed on their house in October…and she announced her pregnancy in November.  That is the day the binge began.

I initially pulled it together to be the supportive person that I am expected to be, but the pregnancy was always there in the back of my mind and sometimes in the forefront of my mind.  Then, I had to deal with Christmas.  I was having panic attacks about how I was going to deal with Christmas at my husband’s family’s house, as it would inevitably become a celebration of the pregnancy.  My husband’s response was not to comfort me…oh, no.  He got irritated with me, said he couldn’t understand how I could be mad at his sister for being pregnant (sometimes guys really don’t get it), and told me not to ruin having a niece or nephew for him and not to ruin Christmas for his family by moping around.  He has been put in his place for these comments, but he did serious damage to my already fragile self esteem that day.  In addition to feeling miserable that I wasn’t pregnant, I now had to feel guilty about feeling miserable.  I made it through Christmas without making a scene, but I have only recently pulled out of what I can best describe as alternating bouts of mild depression and severe anxiety.  That was how the binge that I am on began and how it kept being fueled through the holidays.  After that, I think momentum just took hold and carried me through January.

So how do I fix this situation?  I’m not sure, but I think it is good that I at least am asking the question.  I know taking away my own excuses would be helpful.  Yeah the stimulating medications make you put on weight, but not 60 pounds and not when you aren’t even on the meds anymore (which I’m not).  I think that dealing with my own guilt and self esteem issues (related to my infertility) would help, too.  I’m hoping that admitting this issue to all of you will also be helpful…accountability never hurt anyone.  If anyone else has tackled this issue and has some advice for me, I would be so appreciative if you shared.  I know I can’t be alone on this one.