Surrender

The Enemy Within

She sits within a crystal heart, adorned by a crown of thorns.

She whispers things inside your head and plants them as your own.

She fills your heart with dread and doubt and when hope comes about,

She hunts the source, she finds the light and snuffs the candle out.

~K

We all struggle now and then to see ourselves as our own best friends as opposed to being our very worst enemies.

I can honestly say I am comfortable in my own company (a little too comfortable at times, you could say that I prefer it) and mostly I can accept that this is who I am and that my body is not me but is merely the vehicle that transports my unique little soul around this world enabling me to leave my own individual mark upon it.

But then something happens to set it all askew.

The inner crazy lady starts to come out of her usual hiding place.

For some, someone may make an idle comment towards them that hits a little too close to home.

A raw nerve is struck sparking that inner dialogue of self doubt and despair.

Or maybe life starts spinning a bit too fast to keep a grasp of, sending the old stress levels and emotions spiralling out of control.

In my case it's always the same… my body, that so called temple, inevitably lets me down right when I want it to rise to the occasion most.

It's no secret around here that I've been TTC for quite a while now, although I have been making a deliberate and conscious effort not to talk about it anymore, around here at least.

(I hope you've noticed, I've been aiming to exude a more positive vibe around here and less of the ' let's hop aboard the waa-waa train')

I've been taking more walks, capturing the beauty in the world around me, making future plans (that don't involve babies) and generally nurturing a happy mindset.

It was all going so well.

My cycle was steady, my tests and scans all came back clear and best of all I'm down to less than 10 follicles within both ovaries.

To all those not in the know, that translates to PCOS free! Hooooooraaaahh!!!!

We then uped the ante and changed physicians resulting in a prescription of Clomid which in theory would force ovulation and regulate my cycle back to 28 days. 

I felt the weight of these past 6 years lift off my shoulders at the imminence of a practical plan.

All we had to do was wait for my next cycle so we could finally begin my treatment.

Can you guess what happened next?

Yep, no period.

It's been 98 days since my last cycle and still nada… (but who's counting?)

This body, this vessel I'm supposed to care so much for has decided it doesn't want to join in on the party. Why co-operate when it can do whatever the hell it feels like?

At first my crazy lady reared her ugly head;
"Don't treat yourself poorly? Be your own best friend? HA! Pppft! How can you not see your stupid body as the enemy when it only serves to sabotage you at every given opportunity?"

I could have taken this direction and run with it but you know what?

I actually can't be arsed. I can't be bothered caring anymore.

Being sad and mopey and depressed and whatever else you want to add to the already salted wounds just takes too much effort.

Equally, hoping and wishing and generally trying to keep the flame alight is just as tiring if not more. 

I. Can't. Be. Bothered.

You hear that body? I give up.

You win. I surrender!

That's it, I've had enough. I'm tired of fighting for the promise of nothing.

I don't want to see anymore doctors. I'm sick of feeling like a specimen.

I've given more blood for samples than the average person donates to save lives and spent enough money on specialists and their tests to fund a round the world trip!

When I think of that waste alone I could weep.

I. Am. Done.

Why focus another minute on something that clearly doesn't want to be?

Now that the usual culprits have been eliminated what other reason can there be for my lack of fertility besides my body screaming loud and clear:
"I DON'T WANT TO!"

There is no enemy within. The only enemy has been me and for 6 years I've waged war against myself.

This is my time to live. This moment right here is the only thing that counts.

Tomorrow may rain, it may not. 

The world might end this year. It may not.

There's always a chance things could go either way however slim but even if someone could tell me the exact day I would become a mother would I just sit around waiting for it to happen?

And what if they could tell me it never would, would I curl up in a ball and cease to exist?

It's going to be hard to let go, I've spent so long "trying".
Although I am mega excited to be giving up those bloody temperature charts. Forget throwing them out, I feel like lighting a bonfire with them and burying them in the backyard!

I want to know how it feels to not care anymore about babies and creation or the science behind it all.

I want to travel and laugh and take too many pictures.

I want to rest and rejuvenate and meditate on creating inner peace.

I want to make love with my partner because the mood strikes and not because some test says my 'window of opportunity is open'.

Every window, bench, floor, table top and goddamn rooftop will be my open opportunity from now on - haha, avert your eyes!

And if life doesn't wish to be created within me? Then so be it.

I am content to create life in every step I dance to, in every mark I leave upon a persons heart and within every beat of my own in this world for as long as I'm blessed to live it.

Armed and Dangerous

This month I've, again, upped the ante.
With ovulation predictors, basal temperature readings and early pregnancy detection kits on hand I'm at the ready.

Also, because I guess it couldn't hurt to raise my chances, I've also booked in to see a new acupuncturist, medical intuitive and another fertility specialist referred to me by an old friend of mine who also found it hard to conceive due to PCOS but was successful after 3 months of this treatment.

I really believe it's going to happen for me soon, maybe not this month or even this year but soon. I can finally feel it in my heart of hearts.
It's time to get lucky!

See Ya Later Aligator

Not even in a while crocodile!

What a shit week - Can't wait to see the back of ya!

???

We interrupt our regular holiday blogging to announce this important announcement:

I'm late!!!

Two days late to be exact...
Yet all other signs of success point to no…. so… hmmm? Tricky.

A bit too much of the good life this month perhaps?
Seems not giving a rats about "trying" anymore doesn't exactly agree with my PCOS.

It has until Monday to come to the party before I do another test but I'm almost 99% sure it's just my ovaries playing funny buggers with me again.
After all I have none of the telltale signs I had last month and I've been very very naughty on the health front lately which I know always wreaks havoc on my cycle.

Then again I've been completely regular for the past 6 months so you just never know, but either way that's a mighty good run for me in my history of runs.

C'mon body, would you meet me half way here please?
I promise to be a good girl and start treating you like a temple again if you promise to deliver the goods soon.

Okay, it's off my chest.
Now back to our regular blogging, sorry for the interruption.

❤ K

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Pregnant Pause

I can remember the last few months a little too vividly.

All the hoping and praying, the wishing and waiting.
It was such an intense array of emotions that had me swinging between some of the darkest moments I've ever experienced.
Pessimistic self talk partnered with joyful signs of positivity, I couldn't get a grip on myself and I think my poor partner was very near to the end of his tether.

After last month I was so sure my body was a liar. Fooling me with all the telltale signs of pregnancy only to deliver my period in the end. (I've never been so excited to be nauseous, lethargic and constipated in my life!)

Throughout those last two weeks I "just knew" something was different this time but my mind was torn between hopeful thoughts in order to be positive or negative self talk in order not to work myself up. (I honestly don't know which mode of thinking was more painful)
To say I was disappointed when my period came a week after it was supposed to is an understatement - I truly am my own worst enemy.

Having come through it to the other side I've vowed not to let myself slip into such a state ever again.

No result is worth that kind of torture.

So I swore to be indifferent for the rest of this year. To wait it out until January before becoming eligible for IVF and reassessing things from there.

Well it turns out my body's not a liar, just a prankster.
According to both my Gyno and naturopath yesterday, the reason I "felt pregnant" was because I likely was, (as far as my charts show at least. I was too scared to take a test and know the truth. See? Messed up...)
My hormone levels were perfect, my temperature charts classic yet for some unknown reason it just didn't stick, again...

I don't quite know how to feel about this…

I'm sad I guess that I can come so close without it ever eventuating but I think the important thing to get out of this is that something is happening which is more than absolutely nothing.

Starting with this holiday it's time to be kind to myself and my body again. Back to basics.
Sensible eating and more movement.
My natropath has bumped up the magic mix and now it's time to do my part.

Despite the somewhat sad tone to this post, I do have a good feeling about the future.
I'm still sticking to my original mode of thinking ala Fail, (it is the silly season after all) but I won't put my life or happiness on hold for an outcome that can't be rushed.


For now my mantra is: come what may, c'est la vie and leave the self loathing for the bitter kids to play with.

xx,
K

Diagnosis: Infertile

When I was just a girl at the tender age of 15 I was already labeled and became a member of what unfortunately seems to be a none too uncommon group even in this modern world we live in.
I can still recall hearing the exact words that have haunted me to this day:
Diagnosis, Infertile.

You see I had been struggling with the onset of my puberty since 13.
It would come and then within the blink of an eye it would be gone.
I'd announce my impending breakthrough with delight to my Mum "I'm finally becoming a woman now!" only to have to sheepishly eat my words when it would suddenly disappear again.
It got to the stage that my Mum and sisters were starting to suspect I was a bit of an attention seeker until finally, when I'd reached a state of such incomprehensible depression, that something so irrational like the way the light would stream though my window or a sunset on a rainy day would set me off in convulsive tears that would leave me bleak and bedridden for days.
My hormones were put into question and tests to explain my behaviour were issued.

Turns out I had roughly 40-50 cysts in each ovary and my hormone levels were completely askew.
Back then there was no treatment aside from the Pill or ovarian drilling and there was no way my conservative parents would allow either of those. I was still a baby in their eyes and I'm sure they believed the doctors when they were told it was nothing to worry about until I was ready to have children and that my depression was just a normal part of adolescent growing pains.

I was told Polycistic Ovarian Syndrome was something I would live with and have to control for the rest of my life.
That at that stage I was considered infertile and that my chances to conceive in future were very low but not impossible with the help of new technology like IVF.

As you can imagine, for me to be told at the cusp of womanhood that my chances to conceive were next to zero was obviously devastating.
It's one thing to be 15 and nowhere near thinking about children of your own but it's a whole other ball game when you're essentially told that your basic human right to reproduce has been taken away from you whether you liked it or not.

What if I did want babies further down the track?
I'd barely even begun dating but instantly worried how and when I was supposed to break it to any potential partners in the future that I was clearly defective. A dud.
Who'd want to marry me if I couldn't even give them the chance at having children?

It all seemed so impossibly unfair. What had I done to deserve this?

I'd heard of girls falling pregnant as young as 16 and "shaming" themselves and their families, the gossip flying around almost carried in the wind.
Did you hear? Did you hear? They were only fooling around now she's gonna have it and she's really screwed over. Did you hear he's not even stickin' around? Yea but I heard she's a total slut, betchya it's not even his....

While I still dreaded the thought of ever being talked about in that way (or heaven forbid having to break something like that to my father!), I sometimes daydreamed wistfully about what it would be like to feel the excitement of falling pregnant accidentally.
How great it would be not having to worry about if I was damaged after all.

All this continued to get to me, compounded by my wildly swinging hormonal fluctuations. Things got pretty grim.
Thank goodness I was born into a family of adult siblings, all of whom had very open minds when it came to health and wellbeing so after plenty of pushing from my eldest sister I began to see the most wonderful natropath who soon set me straight both physically and emotionally.

After just 2 months I was smiling again, in 6 I had regained some kind of cycle regularity (well at least 1 every other month) and after a year my cysts were down to 10 on each side.

But of coarse I was still a teenager and once I'd start to feel good again, my strict diet and dedication to taking goopy potions and smelly pills would slide out the door, setting me up for a habit of yoyo-ing with my health.

Cut to now.
Here I am again 3 months in with a new natropath this time - only because the last one is in such high demand he's impossible to get in with and besides my current one is known as The Baby Maker so I figure with a reputation like that she's worth a shot.

For the first time in my life I've had a period for 6 consecutive months.
The condition of my ovaries has been downgraded to a level consistent with normal women - my cysts have cleared to less than 10 all up.
I seem to be ovulating, according to my charts and I've lost a whopping 15kgs in preparation for this next phase in life.

So all that's left to do now I suppose is wait. Wait another 9 months before I'm classed as having been 'actively trying'.
(even though I've been off the pill for 5years now and still nothing)

Have I mentioned how much I hate waiting by the way?
How afraid I am that my diagnosis from so long ago will be with me for the rest of my life?
That my worst fear is having tried every known avenue of conception and still being unsuccessful?
How afraid I am of not being able to deliver the one thing I wish for most? To produce this gift to my husband, family and mostly, to myself?

But I'll keep hoping, I'll keep wishing and praying for as long as it takes that each and every fruitless month so far in my life has simply been bringing me closer to that one day when my dream will finally come true and not to the realisation of my very worst fear.

Good Medicine

My homeopathic routine.
Yep, that concoction tastes exactly how it looks.

It seems as though the sun is rising on my horizon at long last.

After seeing an endocrinologist yesterday, some of my fears have been put to rest at least.
While it's still rather baffling that I'm displaying symptoms of an under-active thyroid rather than an overactive one.
(You hear that metabolism? Feel free to kick start any time now, belly flab you have permission to melt away!).
Still its reassuring that my thyroid is not the cause of my infertility so far as it's only minutely overactive but hardly enough to be causing any concern. Big sigh of relief.
According to my test results though there's no real reason why I shouldn't be conceiving. Which makes me apt to thinking that all these other people in the world who seem to fall pregnant at the drop of a hat must be doing something incredibly cleaver that I don't know about yet.

Are their bodies somehow better designed than mine seems to be?
Did mine miss the memo everyone else's got at puberty?
Should I be standing on my head after the deed, waving a leg in the air while sacrificing a chicken to the Gods?...
I jest.
I know the real answer lies in letting it go and forgetting about it while trusting that what will be will be. So long as I keep an eye on my health the rest will fall into place on its own. No use agonising over it.

Easier said than done.

Well I'm much more optimistic anyway now that I know my body isn't so unhealthy just that it's a little confused. Much like me at the moment.
Oh well miracles happen every day and hopefully mine is on its way.

For now more pills and potions followed by bloods and scans - Yippee.

Follow Up

Pinterest

Seriously guys, I'm in the wrong profession.

Can you believe a follow up consultation is just 15mins and has cost me $85!

That's not including the extra $300 I spent on pills and concoctions.

Not to mention the earlier consult with my private specialist stinging me another $85.

These chicks better deliver the goods or I won't be happy. You hear that womb... get baking!

Mind you I'm a bit peeved at my so called specialist for ignoring the massive ultrasound I brought in (maybe then she would've seen the 16 or so cysts including the massive 3cm one on my right ovary even though her results claimed I was within normal range) and for giving me blood test results that didn't match up at all with the test results faxed to my natropath. So now I have no idea where the truth actually lies when it comes to my hormone readings. I was sitting in that office thinking "Does this woman have someone else's file up on screen or what?" and when I questioned what she was telling me vs what the sonographer told me I was dismissed and I have to admit the whole consult felt a little condescending.

I walked away from there thinking there's something seriously wrong with my thyroid.
How can it have jumped from being under-active to severely overactive in less than a month - even though I've been displaying classic symptoms of an under-active thyroid. No hyper amounts of energy or excessive weight loss here (much to my disgust. That would be great). Instead it's been the complete opposite... there were those two weeks where I was convinced I was pregnant thanks to the sudden weight gain, nausea and inability to keep my eyes open due to an overwhelming desire to just sleep all day

... And then my monthly friend arrived. Fail.

So of coarse after processing this confusing information my mind raced straight to thoughts of thyroid cancer or at best thyroid disfunction and by the time I'd gotten home I was convinced I'd need a removal of the whole thing which spiralled into "I'll never have a baby" fears.

Thank goodness I had an appointment with my natropath straight after.
She let me have a little cry first then promptly set the records straight before shutting down my pity party with some positive influence. Big sigh of relief. I am faith renewed.

But I'm not complaining really. If I start thinking baby making is expensive and too hard, boy am I gonna get a rude shock when baby raising finally comes along.

And besides there's no amount of money or effort that wouldn't be well spent in order to make this dream come true.

I just keep praying this all goes right for us naturally soon so that we don't have to take the whole IVF approach - we just aren't financially or emotionally prepared for that challenge just yet. But that's a ways down the road at this stage.

For now more blood tests, a date with an endocrinologist and more vile tasting homeopathic' s.

It's a long road my friends and there aren't any quick fixes (so I keep telling myself although it refuses to sink in. Stupid brain) so for now my focus will be on working even harder at getting myself healthier than I've ever been. One step at a time.

Hope this month sees some corresponding answers and figures that correlate with one another at least.

xx

This link made me smile :) 

Green Thumbs

Hubbie's, not mine. Plants and I aren't on the best of terms. It's safer for the plant if I simply observe... from a distance.

It's been particularly sun shiny the past few days, pulling me out of my winter slump. Finally!

Even though this weather may not last long it's been nice to feel that old familiar cheeriness and enthusiasm return.

I always feel like my true self under a blue sky and a bright sun.

Speaking of shining light on a dark mood - tomorrow I see my specialists to get some answers to some questions regarding my health & hopes for the future.

Here's hoping they can shine some brightness and love my way.

Crossing my fingers & toes for some good news tomorrow.

xox

Kat

Hump Week

And what a hump it has been.
This weekend marks the end of week 2 of Dry July (and quietly, also my detox month) so you'd assume it would all be down hill from here right?
Wrong.
It all started going downhill as of last Monday.
Tiredness, no thanks to my thyroid, combined with the nonchalance losing weight brings to me was my inevitable undoing. (I had almost reached my goal weight - just 1.5kg off according to my scales on Mon- Yippee!)
You see while others see results as a reason to spur them on, I seem to suddenly relax.
I thought that even though I hadn't done a smidge of exercise all week that my past efforts would make up for it and that I owed it to myself to have a little rest on the healthy eating and fitness plan seeing as I'd been so good on the alcohol front all month.

Imagine my horror when I hoped onto the scales and saw a 3.5kg weight gain!   WTF?!
I'm back at square one and then some!
Not only have I fallen off the wagon, the wagon's dragged me along the asphalt all week and trampled me for attempting to hang on.

Needless to say I had a little cry this morning, moped around the house for a bit then decided to pull my shit together and get back on the horse.

Sorry for getting back on the negativity train, but honestly - I didn't believe it was possible to gain that much weight in less than a week but lo and behold I've set a new standard. And when i really stop to think about what's been going into my mouth all week it actually makes sense. It's like the flood gates opened up and my mouth along with it ready to ingest whatever came my way.

• Dumplings, dumplings and ever more dumplings
• White bread, white pasta, white rice, fried chips, cheeese, cheeeeeese, cheeeeeeese!!!
• Snacking on double brie and smoked ham on Savoys or in a sandwich every day
• Two pieces of toast with breakfast, lunch and dinner.
• English toffee ice-cream every night (it was fat free ok, so by my deluded calculations I could eat a quarter of a tub per sitting)
• And of coarse, sleeping in and sitting on my ass at every free opportunity I could find

Any wonder I'm not coming to you from an insulin induced coma right now.

I know I said my PCOS condition was a blessing in disguise because it stops me from treating my body like shit.
And that's very true.
But sometimes the weight of it all - the diabetic diet, the hormonal imbalances, the inability to conceive, the constant struggle with my weight and need to work out twice as hard as the average human being in order to maintain it - can feel like too much to bear.
Sometimes I just wish I could have it easy for a change.
And then I remember. It's not a life threatening illness. I'm not powerless to create change. I can control my symptoms and while yes there are people in the world that have it way easier there're are so many more who have it way tougher than I do.
So today I chose to take this weeks lesson and run with it - literally.

I cannot afford to give up. The payoff's too important xx

PCOS

20 mins later and I'm $500 poorer.

Although this Natropath has confirmed a lot of what I was told through countless blood tests over 2 years (and some very embarrassing personal expeditions into my nether regions) all by just staring into my eyes and jotting down some notes. 

Sitting there I wished I'd known that my diagnosis could've been that easy 14 years ago. 

It's been quite an uncomfortable ride to say the least... anyone who's had to live with polycystic ovarian syndrome will know exactly what I mean but I'll spare you the details.

Soon after taking the first batch of herbs I remembered why I ditched this option in the first place.

I've ingested some pretty gross shit in my time but let me just tell you this series of vile goop takes the cake, stomps on it and burns what ever reserves are left in the world!

Aaah the quest for good health, what a disgustingly difficult bitch you are.

C'mon science nerds, tweak some research. Surely cream buns and sitting on your fat ass cures or prevents some sort of disease...

Oh well for now I'll just try to remember 

• the more disgusting it tastes the better it probably is for you
• No pain no gain
• having this condition FORCES you to take care of yourself rather than being able to get away with treating your body like a waste basket.

 

And so the journey goes on.
Wish me luck
xx Kat