The Day the Drug Deal Went Down

I made a drug deal today, you guys.  That is the only thing that I will ever call fertility treatments, because the three or four times today that I said the word "drugs" my ob-gyn corrected me and said, "Call them medications, please" with increasing annoyance.  And that amuses me.  Because he was really upset by the end.  And he has really big eyebrows, and I think that they were upset, too.  They were quivering.  So henceforth I will call my prescriptions "drug deals" and I will call my ob-gyn "Dr. Angry Eyebrows".

Because screw him.  He's a nice guy and whatever, but he does not have time for me and he made that very clear every time I asked a question and he literally threw his hands up in the air instead of answering.  Or made really vague comments about how "well, some diets say one thing and other diets say another and they all think they're right".  Yes, but you are a medical professional.  And I am asking YOU.

He gave me basically no information about drugs.  (THAT'S RIGHT, I CALLED THEM DRUGS AGAIN, YOU DRUG DEALER.)  I was like, "Listen, everyone I know who has used Metformin has been successful and everyone who uses Clomid is still trying, but I understand that my sample size is small, so, in your experience, which is more likely to yield results?  And do you have any hard data on the average amount of months it takes to achieve pregnancy for your patients on each drug, or anything like that?  Or just a general idea?"

And he was like, "I read an article a couple months ago that said they're pretty much the same."  And he thought that answered my question.  No, it did not.  You read a freaking article?  I can read articles.  You have actual patients.  I was asking about them.  Did you not understand the question, or can you really just not remember whether or not these drugs (YES, DRUGS) have worked for any of the people who come into your office and pay a couple hundred dollars so that you can not answer any of their questions?

Then he printed out a three page article about what PCOS is for me as if I don't know how to use Google and haven't spent months reading ALL the articles in the universe on the myriad of problems with the disappointment machine I keep where my baby-grower should be.

And then he was like, "So are we done here?  I'm done."  Thanks, Dr. Angry Eyebrows.  You have a nice day, too.

And, look.  I get it.  This is the thirty-millionth time he has had this conversation and written this prescription.  But it's the first time that I have had this conversation, and it is his freaking job to answer my freaking questions about it!

Whatever.  It's fine.  I got a prescription for Clomid because the one and only thing that he actually told me was that Clomid is better if you don't need to lose weight and Metformin is better if you do.  Thanks to my 20 pound weight loss extravaganza, my weight is not at all an issue.  Soooo Clomid.

And on the 10th I'm going to get my progesterone checked to see if I ovulated this month.

And sometime in the next couple weeks, Husband is going to get his sperm checked.  Which he has feelings about.  But maybe I'll talk about that in another post.  Just know for now that his feelings amuse me, because I have been having feelings for, like, ever.  Your turn, sucker!  Mwahaha.

The Chaos Weeks Have Ended

Oh my gosh, you guys.  I made it.  These last two weeks have been busy.  As in BUSY.  So busy that I could not even take a break from all the things that I was doing to have ovulation sex.

I don't want you to misinterpret what I have just said.  I am NOT telling you that we didn't have sex.  I'm telling you I did not take a break for it.  That's right, friends.  I was re-arranging the exhibits on my memorandum and doing the baby dance simultaneously.  And I regret nothing.

Because it's over now!  And I did it!  I miraculously did not let anything important fall through the cracks.  As I mentioned in a previous post, my first oral argument went so well that only two people in the 77 person class did better than I did (the results for my second oral argument have not yet been posted).  And I won my hearing, which is great.  Although I did accidentally ask a leading question.  But it was ok.  Everyone was nice about it.  And the Halloween event I planned for the kids at my church (and also a bunch of kids from neighboring churches that NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT) was a success and everyone had fun!  And despite the fact that stress has probably made my vagina a pressure cooker this month, I did manage to fulfill my ovulation obligations as well.

So basically, I am a winner.  And I'm feeling great about life because of all the success I'm having and the fact that the most stressful part of my semester is OVER.

But... in a weird way... I almost wish it weren't?  Because when I'm stressed and I don't have time to think about anything then I do not cry for an hour or so about not having a baby.  No time for crying.  No time for baby thoughts.  Just normal life like other people have all the time.  In a way, honestly, it was nice.  Like a break.  While simultaneously not being anything close to a break.  Why can't I take a break from babies and from life at the same time?  Why must my failure to grow a person inside of me lurk on the edge of my thoughts, just waiting for some downtime to ruin?

At least now I don't have much longer to wait before we take The Next Step.  T-minus four days until my gyno appointment.  You can expect to hear from me again then.  In the meantime, I'm going to try my hardest to keep the dont-think-about-babies train going.  Choo choo!