Austin.

This past Friday we had yet another confirmation that we cannot have children. Our last hope, medically speaking, was a doctor who studied and worked under Dr. Hilgers (the man who developed the NFP method we follow). The hope is almost gone. This doctor was very polite and very upbeat when he first introduced himself. After seeing our NFP chart and my history, he was at a loss for words. Before I had a chance to fully digest his reaction, he was saying that adoption should be considered. Though very polite, it annoyed me that he kept saying, "this is very tough, guys. Very, very tough". I understand that he just didn't know what to say, but it felt like rubbing my nose on my infertility over and over. Even if we would've been in favor of IVF, I wouldn't have been a candidate because my hormone levels are so off the charts. Even the exploratory surgeries that Dr. Hilgers likes to perform would be pointless.

Now I know how Michael felt right after his first wife died. He told Sam he hated the pity looks, the "time heals wounds" comments that people would give him. I know that feeling exactly now. I HATE the pity comments. I hate them. I'm thankful that my faith has been strong enough that I have not become angry with God, yet I hate the "we're praying for you" comments. That does not alleviate pain. I think it's because "we're praying for you", along with the equally popular "our thoughts and prayers go out to you", has become one of those Hallmark-type things everyone says when they don't know, or don't care, to come up with something better to say. Yes, we appreciate the prayers. At this point, prayer is the only thing that can pull us out of this. But I HATE hearing, "we're praying for you". Half the time, the words are empty.

At times I envision myself with my eyes tightly shut, holding my head with both hands and screaming with my mouth wide open as strongly as I can, yet no sound comes out. It's a deaf cry. Sometimes I envision an arm extended up, pleading for help at the bottom of a jet-black pit. But no help comes. When I think about what's happened during the past couple of months, I have a knot in my throat. It feels like I can't get enough air, I cannot speak. My heart shrinks. I have this heart which was so ready to give our child all the love I could give him or her. I was so ready to feel life inside. Been ready for over a year.

Sometimes I feel like just posting it on Facebook for EVERYBODY to see: "Dear everybody: we CANNOT have children. Ask us one more time when we're going to have kids and I'll punch you in the face".

Thankfully, the rest of the weekend was better. We spent it in Austin, going to McKinney Falls (which should be more aptly called "McKinney trickles", at least until they get some good rain), the Austin Zoo, several local food joints. I like Austin. It wouldn't be the end of the world to live in Longhorn county; the natural beauty of the area, tied with the quirkiness of everything you see, makes it a very special place and makes up for the abundance of burned orange we'd see everywhere. Sam was... unbelievably amazing. Supportive and kind. Gentle. Exactly what I needed. Sometimes I'm truly amazed at how God knew exactly who I needed to cross paths with, because without Sam I truly do not know where I would be.

Now we're home, and it's back to the grind. We have discussed our options (or lack thereof), and have decided to proceed with adoption. We need to educate ourselves more about it all. As a couple, we're ready to be mom and dad. I'm so ready to be a mom. In a way, it's better to be messed up enough that there are no other options. If I would be a more typical messed up case, we'd probably consider other routes before thinking about adopting. Sam's reading a book titled "What to Expect when she's not Expecting", and the author talks about how he and his wife spent about $250,000 in in vitro treatments ALONE, and never got pregnant. They also tried hormone replacement therapy, surgeries, you name it. Sam even said the lady had a procedure where somehow her cervix was slowly stretched artificially. Nothing worked; they had to resort to surrogacy. So, my lack of eggs and everything else messed up with me keeps us from considering anything else. Adoption it is.

I've said it before: one day I will be better. It will take time though.

Dark.

Anything that reminds me of my "different state" angers me. Then it depresses me.

A foreword of sorts: this is MY journal. As such, I feel entitled to say exactly what is on my mind. I need it. I need it so badly.

Someone at work just had a baby. Someone I know is pregnant. Back when we first learned of my condition, I cried a lot. I eventually thought, "The worst thing would be if someone I know becomes pregnant soon." Then like magic, it happened.

I'm too damn young to be dealing with this. Inside, I feel a very dark voice crying out. As it cries, a very thick, tar-like substance covers it. It eventually drowns out the voice, and only a large empty hole remains. Haha, I often imagine my mind like Samara from "the Ring". Not menacing Samara though. Dark Samara. "Falling into a freaking abyss" Samara. Freaking helpless.

I pray, a lot. On and off this weekend, I've found myself begging to God to provide me with solace. With comfort. Maybe the dark voice I feel inside is not crying in anger. It's begging to be pulled out of darkness.

Friday was a pretty alright day. Until nighttime. Then all hell broke loose inside. Yesterday my eyes were still evidence of how rough the night got. I eventually went on: at work, I helped set up for today's conference. Then I went to my second photography lesson in downtown Bryan, which after an hour or so helped me forget. It helped me smile again. It was so much fun, actually: two models, two cameras, and wonderfully unique backdrops. I loved feeling free from those awful feelings, and I loved forgetting about the truth of my condition.

We're supposed to have lunch with some of Sam's friends today. I know life goes on. I have to move on.

Obesity and Awful Diets and Rationalization and...

Yesterday while I was talking to one of my coworkers, another one comes in with a huge piece of chocolate cake; she sits down and interrupts our work-related discussion to say, "Look at what I'm eating. I didn't have time to go get lunch so I had a piece of cake then. I haven't had anything to eat since then but since I have things to do after work and won't be able to get home until after 8pm, I'm having another piece of cake!". She then stares at us with a smile on her face, waiting for a reaction (maybe a "oh it's okay, you poor thing!"). As far as getting a reaction like that from me: FAT chance (no pun intended).

The first thing that came out of my mouth was, "Weren't you on a diet about two months ago?". A diet which mind you, kept her from eating any fruit at all (because the sugar in fruit is BAD for you), and made her starve for hours because she could only have protein shakes and salads. *groan*. So her reply to my question was, "yeah I was on a diet; I lost a little bit of weight then and when I got sick afterwards, I lost 25 more pounds. But I'm gonna gain it all back!". I realize me asking that question sounds pretty mean, but when she was on that diet, she would be absolutely miserable, hungry all the time; whenever I would offer fruit or some crackers, she would say they were all bad for you.

Again, *GROAN*. I just read an article online which stated that the obesity epidemic that's plaguing our country is worsening. Texas was only one of many states which saw the percentage of obese people increase. Approximately 30 PERCENT of all adults in Texas are considered obese. Not overweight, which typically means having a BMI of 25 or more; OBESE. Now, I'm not saying that all obese people have awful diet habits and that's the only reason why they're in the shape they are. I know people who genuinely have a problem they can only try to control through medication. But I do hear too many people blaming genetics for their weight issues, people who I see eating a huge meal loaded with complex carbohydrates and fat at 9:00pm. People who think eating a BANANA is bad for you because it has sugar. YES people, some fruits have a lot of sugar. NATURAL sugars. The difference comes when you eat one banana versus THREE or FOUR. Cliche saying #1: eating in moderation works, people! Eating cake is perfectly okay. Eating TWO pieces of cake, one as a substitute for an entire MEAL, is not okay.

I know some people will say, "well you've got it easy, you're not overweight". But I also have put on weight (10-20 pounds after moving to the US, 15-20 pounds after a year working), and it was dang hard to lose it. I still struggle with weight (I should be about 10 pounds lighter), but I guess sooner or later a "let's do something about this problem" attitude kicks in; I can't stand feeling sorry for myself for a long time. I also cook at home, and try to abstain from a big meal or dessert after 7:00pm or so. And honestly, I want to remain desirable for my husband; I completely agree with cliche saying #2:"He should love you no matter what you look like", but if I can do something about it, I will work to remain attractive for him. I know what it feels like to look in the mirror while naked and feeling depressed. Why perpetuate that feeling?

Does skinny always equal healthy? Absolutely not. Some other coworkers at the office are pencil-thin and eat candy all the flippin' time. They eat junk nonstop and will not gain one ounce of fat. They believe that as long as they work out, they can eat whatever junk they want. Sadly though, this is not the case. Your heart, arteries and blood circulation do get affected; that treadmill won't erase all the damage. These people look AMAZING in their cute little outfits, they could be models. But it makes me a little sad to hear them talking about going to the tanning salon and eating junk, and worrying about their looks. Forget health. LOOKS come first.

*sigh*. I know this is a long rant. It just worries me how the country is fattening itself to oblivion. I don't even want to start listing reasons why this is happening. It's just a sad outlook: people work harder, work longer hours, become consumed with work, spend less time with their families, have less time to cook at home, run around from place to place while stopping at drive-thrus to pick up anything that will help them keep moving. Exercising, taking care of your body becomes last on your list. Work comes first. Then family, then your health. It's such an awful cycle. I admit that it's really hard to get up from the couch once you get home; it's hard to get started exercising. Even doing regular home chores is hard after an entire day's work. But we've got to. For our own sake and for our well-being. Otherwise, we are denying our right to complain about rising healthcare costs; we're denying our right to wonder why more of us are becoming diabetics, why our kids are having more weight-related issues than ever.

Get on the treadmill, America. And for God's sake, eat healthy stuff. We're blessed with an abundance of healthy foods. There's no excuse.

Week Full of Testing

This week I went in to have my blood drawn once again (they sucked three vials outta me this time), and to get the bone density test done.

I broke down today. I cried like I haven't cried in a very, very long time. Laying on that cold bed, with my legs spread apart just right so the giant machine's arm could capture a more accurate image of my pelvis freaked me out; it made me feel like I had some sort of horrible disease and was fighting to find a cure. The radiologist asked when I'd had my last period and I about lost it; I think she felt bad for asking, once I explained why I was there.

It's so dang hard to not feel broken. Defective. I always felt sad for women who were called "barren", and now I'm pretty much one of them. The worst thing is, I feel so dang guilty for feeling this miserable. Aside from this specific condition, I seem to be in good health. I'm now swimming and that's helping me so, so much; not only physically but emotionally and mentally. I've begun to crave the pool now; it's the one thing I can do which completely clears my mind from everything else going on. Yet, I have days like today where I felt absolutely miserable about this. Why should I technically feel like that? I don't have cancer, or a terminal illness. Yet.. the pain I feel when I think that I probably will not be able to carry a child... NO ONE ELSE except for another woman going through this would understand it. In a way I feel like a small part of me has died; the reproductive part of me. Premature menopause; the name says it right...?

I cried like I hadn't cried in a long time. I cried like a toddler does: furiously, without caring about tears or makeup or running noses. Sam held me.

Only through the grace of God and the Holy Spirit can I get up when I'm down.

Hear me, O Lord... I need the comfort and relief that only He can provide me.

I went SWIMMING!!

I can't believe I did it! If you asked me if it was fun, I'd say, "I have no idea"... All I was doing was trying to stay afloat and relearning to breathe and swim. But it felt good. :) We went to Academy yesterday and bought a swim "something" (what DO you call what I wear?? See the photo below), goggles and a bada-- swim cap. The cap was just needed because I have colored hair and the chemicals from the pool wouldn't agree with the color in my hair. I probably embarrassed myself times 10 when I repeatedly stopped after HALF A LAP to take a breath (Meghan stop making fun), and I probably looked like a weirdo for wearing a cap (everyone else was just there to have fun, not swim), but I DON'T CARE. It felt very good to feel active like that again :)

And by the way, I'd completely forgotten how many flippin' muscles work when you swim. I'm already SORE. :O I can't wait to go again, and just... become better at swimming, enjoying being in the water, getting healthier.

That's the first "yay" in about a week. :)

Post-News

It would be a heck of an understatement to say it's been a rough couple of days. After the initial test results came in, the doctor said she wanted to run a few more tests. The high FSH (follicle stimulating hormone) levels have all but confirmed that I indeed have premature ovarian failure (POF) or premature menopause. So the next step is try to figure out WHY. Either this coming week or next, I will go in for more blood tests which will check my thyroid a second time (levels were OK the first time around but a second check is always necessary), and test for Addison's disease and a chromosomal condition. The doctor will also refer us to a reproductive endocrinologist in Temple.

Since this took place, we have informed our families about it. I also let my boss know, since I may need to take time off if even more tests are ordered. Before I decided to tell him, he was also asking when I would be going back to grad school; and honestly ever since the news came in, I have decided I do not want this extra, silly pressure on me. So I was clear with him: don't mention it again, please. I'm very lucky to have an amazing boss; he completely understood.

I'm also trying to stay busy; I'm almost obsessed with projects (well.. have been for a while). So, I'm in the middle of:

a) Editing photos for a girl I went to college with;

b) Designing menus and calendars for the Eagle's Nest;

c) Helping the girl who cuts my hair come up with interior design ideas for her soon-to-open hair salon.

I'm also considering taking up swimming again. A part of me is very scared of keeping any kind of hope that I will become pregnant (especially since, well, the doctor herself said if she were me, she wouldn't count on it happening), but I have found articles which talk about ways to naturally reduce FSH levels so I'm going to try it. I basically need to get back in shape and just become more active, and reduce my caffeine and salt intake. I also cannot ignore the biggest risks I now face because of having POF: bone loss and heart disease. Yipee-ki-yay.

I'm not as miserable as I sound. We have received some amazing supportive reactions from our families, and I have an AMAZING husband who's being very patient with me as I learn to accept this. I also know that those who love us are praying for us, and we can feel the power of these prayers. Whenever I think of it, I have a short talk with God. I ask for peace of mind and heart. I ask for strength. I ask Him to not let me forget that He is here.

This Post Has No Title.

I really can't think of another way to start this one except than to just talk about it.

Yesterday I started experiencing sharp, shooting pains in my lower right abdominal area; this pain I have only felt a handful of times before, and when I have talked to other women about it I've been told that it's probably ovarian cysts. The first time I had the pain (back in 2007) I didn't have health insurance so I didn't have it checked; the pain can be so strong that I almost have to crouch down while sitting at my desk. This time I decided I'd make an appointment with my ob-gyn; after all, it's obvious that something is not right. I'm glad I finally had the guts to do it.

When I was on the phone to make the appointment, I explained not only the sharp pain but also that I had not had a period for over a year. I said I was concerned because my husband and I have been married for over three years and are beginning to talk about having children. This made the nurse put my appointment as an urgent one, so I was able to have the appointment today. Our NFP practitioner had told us that it was very hard to get a local ob-gyn to do an ultrasound; I knew this statement was at least partially correct, because during my last checkup I mentioned my desire to possibly get an ultrasound done and my ob-gyn said that she didn't think I needed it. This time, the painful episodes I was having made her reconsider: I had an ultrasound done.

Right before she did it, she said she was fairly certain that I had polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). However what she saw actually puzzled her. You see, if a woman doesn't have a period for a long time and she's not pregnant, it means the ovaries have been producing eggs which haven't been fertilized and the body is not getting rid of them or shedding the lining of the uterus (which is necessary). If the lining of the uterus is not being shed, it thickens. In some cases, it can thicken to the point of becoming "toxic", and that's how cervical cancer can develop (remember, cancer basically means "cells gone bad", i.e. mutated). What my ob-gyn saw was a THIN uterine lining. No evidence of thickened walls. This is when I received the news.

My ovaries have basically shut down; they're not working. Not producing eggs. This explained to her why when she prescribed Prometrium (same as Provera, a synthetic version of progesterone) to help me have a period, it did not work.

I can't produce eggs. I currently cannot get pregnant. I have what is called "premature menopause".

So the next step is trying to find a cause. The doctor ordered blood work done. My LH and FSH levels, thyroid, prolactin, and testosterone levels will be checked. Results are due tomorrow. When I read about premature menopause, several websites say that it is not reversible; that other approaches to having a child should be considered: fertility treatments (such as in vitro), having an egg donor, adoption.

The part of me who has longed to become a mom for a while wants to cry, curl up somewhere and dwell on feeling like a loser for not being a "complete woman" to my husband (I don't think anyone EXCEPT those in my shoes can make sense out of that one), and think that we won't ever be able to see what our baby, made from Sam's and my biological makeups, will look like. It hurts quite a bit.

Another part of me somehow accepts it. For the past few months now, while thinking about our possible problems conceiving, I have wondered if Janelle was put in my path for a reason. Because of her, the idea of adopting has become a much less foreign idea to me. This reminds me that God's plans are so beyond our simple understanding. As I drove home today after the appointment, I suddenly found peace within me. I heard myself say, "I am your servant Lord, may it be done to me according to Your will".

So this is a test. My test. I choose to trust in our Lord, and in His will. Does it mean that I will not cry at all? Absolutely not; as I've been writing this my eyes have inevitably watered several times already. But I have to find strength in Him; knowing that He has a plan and a will for every single one of us provides amazing solace to my sad heart.