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???



Not So Quick Post-Transfer Update



Well, the transfer is over and now the two week wait begins.  Things are very different at the offices up here than they are where I usually go.  It is the same fertility center, but a different branch and I like my branch sooooooo much better.  People are not quite as friendly and the attention is not as personal up here, but it doesn’t matter…so long as I get pregnant.

I started out with pre-transfer acupuncture, and slept like a baby through the whole thing (always a good sign).  The acupuncturist was awesome, although The Prince was quite convinced that the man smokes copious amounts of pot.  If not, he is just the most mellow man in the world.  I don’t care either way…he was great. 

Then it was on to transfer.  They weren’t concerned about The Prince’s eye, as he was up by my head and was in his usual scrubs, hair net, goggles outfit.  The doctor came in and said that we had 12 amazing blasts, the most beautiful batch he had ever seen.  Seriously!!!  All 12 of the fertilized eggs made it to 5 day blastocytes.  Go donor and go super swimmers.  The picture above is the picture of our little litter.

After showing us the picture, the doctor asked if we wanted to put only 10 or all 12 back in and then laughed.  He agreed with our assessment that two was the best number for us.  He left for awhile, came back in with a nurse and a resident (who observed only) and asked me to skootch down on the table.  Here’s where it started to suck…without any warning he put a cold speculum in, scraping the top of ..well…you know…as he went.  My doctor at home warms the speculum, lubes everything up really well, gives you lots of warning, asks if the pressure is okay, and apologizes the whole way through.  This doctor…not such a romancer.  I yelped and he said “Did that hurt?  Okay, I want you to close your eyes and say ‘I am relaxed, this is easy.’”  I was trying to breath through the pain, but he kept insisting that I “say the mantra,” so I said it to appease him.  I wanted to say “Let me stick that speculum somewhere on you while you say ‘I am relaxed and this is easy,’” but I refrained.

Then, the doctor said “I’ll be right back” and actually left the room with me laying there with the speculum in.  That was new experience for me…and not a pleasant one I must say.  A minute went by, then 5…I was ready to send The Prince out to see what was going on when the crew came back in with our embies in the catheter.  I deep breathed, as instructed, during the actual transfer…and then the best part….

The doctor (who is a bit of a hippy if I haven’t mentioned that before…seriously…like he’s a guru and doctor) took my hand and The Prince’s hands and asked us to form a “hand circle” for “the most important part of the whole process.”  The doctor then asked us to close our eyes (like we were saying Grace) and he said “I want you to see these two most beautiful, amazing, awesome embryos settling into your uterus, as your uterus holds and squeezes them…filling them with love.  Now I want you to picture them growing into babies and you holding those babies in your arms on the day they are born.  If you believe, you can manifest anything.  Believe in these babies.  Say it with me, ‘I believe’….”

At that point, The Prince, a devout atheist and hater of all things hokey, was squeezing my hand so hard, I thought it was going to break off.  I finally conceded and chanted “I believe” with the guru…uh hm…doctor, and he left the room, instructing us to continue manifesting our desired outcome over the next couple of weeks.  It was sweet, really, but hilarious, too.  I started laughing as soon as the door shut behind the doctor, even though I was trying not to because I didn’t want to push out the embryos.  The Prince said I owe him big time because he refrained from laughing while the guy was in there…and he let the doctor hold his hand.  (On a strange side note, The Prince then told me that the doctor must work out because he has the hand muscles that only people who lift heavy weights get…strange how much attention he was paying to that doctor’s hand…but whatever).  I stayed on the table for half an hour, not sure what we were waiting for (manifesting time, maybe?) because no one was big on giving us much information while we were there. 

Finally, a nurse came in and gave us a picture of the two embryos we put in…the best of the best!  (See below)

I went back for another session of acupuncture, and fell asleep so hard, that the acupuncturist had my husband come in to wake me up.  When I awoke and The Prince explained what had happened.  I said, “Well go get the guy so he can take the needles out of me.”  The Prince explained that the poor guy already had removed all the needles and had gently shaken me…but then literally couldn’t wake me up.  And I hadn’t even taken a Valuum this time, as they forgot to give me one before the procedure.  The Prince apparently gave me a light punch in the arm, which did the trick.  Nice.

I’m back at the hotel now.  The Prince is gone and I am on my own for the next couple of days.  I’ve already sampled the room service and I really lucked out in picking this hotel…the room service was delicious!  I think I’m going to sleep now and dream happy dreams of two little babies growing in my belly.  I’ll write more tomorrow.  Have a Happy Hamish Day, everyone.