Archives For ttc

Life keeps getting in the way of blogging!  But I decided to start making some time.  Like a pre-new years resolution.  So to start off I’m getting back to my timeline.  I have many many months to get through.

In November of last year, after seeing the fertility doc and completing the obligatory visits to the lab vampires I was scheduled for the dreaded hysterosalpingogram a.k.a the HSG.  Recently a friend of mine had to go through one as well – she asked me how bad it was and I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a painful and humiliating procedure and she should consider running the other direction… so instead I told her: “it’s not so bad!”.  She wasn’t shy about calling me out on my lie after her procedure.

Way back then, last Novembr when the good doctor told me what was involved I immediately started plotting a panic attack in my head.  I would have to go to the hospital where they would stick a long skinny catheter up my cervix and into my uterus.  After this they would inject a bunch of dye and take pictures of my innards to make sure everything was open and normal in appearance.  This sounded God awful.

Despite the fact that I am a doctor, I will admit I am every gynecologist’s worst nightmare.  I believe speculums were made as instruments of torture by a sadistic male gynecologist who truly hated women.  I believe he twisted his mustache and cackled as he created this torture device.  Yes, I am aware speculum exams and pap smears have reduced the incidence of cervical cancer in the modern world but can’t we find a better way to do that with all this technology we have now?  The HSG was like someone telling me I was going to have the supersized version of a PAP smear. Panic, panic, panic.

Lucky for me, God and a good pharmacist created something that would help me survive the HSG and many other uncomfortable things in life – Valium.  Good old reliable valium – my trusty friend, the crutch I could lean on, my happy happy pill.

We arrived at the hospital the day of the procedure and took the elevator all the way down to the lower basement – same direction as hell.  How appropriate. I put on my pretty blue hospital gown and did the death march towards a makeshift waiting room where my husband was waiting for me.  It was there I gulped down the valium and waiting with anticipation.

About 30 minutes of waiting later (the doc was running late) – I didn’t have a care in the world.  And suddenly…timber!  My head crashed onto my husband’s shoulder.  That valium – it’s like magic.  I tried to convince him with slurred speech that I was still extremely anxious and that I needed more valium.  Good thing he had his wits about him, another dose of valium and I would have been snoring on the floor.

My name was finally called and there started the death march anthem in my head again.  Dead girl walking (a kind of crooked walk thanks to my buddy Valium), down the dark hall towards for my not-so lethal injection of dye into my uterus.  Once in the room my feelings about the procedure were not made any more comforting.  There was a metal slab of a table I was told to lie on.  This really was like death!!  I kept thinking – more valium. Need more valium.

The procedure itself was fast but hateful and I was a hot squirmy mess.  Bright side:  it was normal.  So my husband dragged my sleepy ass home and I slept the afternoon away.

Surely the next procedure would be less painful… right?   I should know I am always wrong about these things.

Good thing my husband is a vegetarian?

It was early winter 2012 when I walked into this sterile looking clinic and boy was I feeling like a reject.  I had a dysfunctional reproductive cycle.  How embarrassing.  None of my family members had this problem – they wished a baby and got a baby.  Or at least that’s the way it went for them in my head.  At least for this first appointment my husband was able to come with me for some moral support.

The moment we got in I was handed some papers, normal operating procedure for a new patient of course.  I kept flipping the pages over and over again.  Following my “new patient” forms was a TEN PAGE questionnaire delving into the deep recesses of my medical and sexual history that would assist my doctor to finding the reason for my inability to get knocked up.  It was called the “American Society for Reproductive Medicine – Infertility History Form”.  Appropriately long name for a long form.

For those of you who have been to a similar office of shame you may know this form and all it’s glory.

They start you off easy –  “What’s your name? What’s your date of birth? When was your last period?”.  I could handle that.

Page two began with a genius question:  “What are your expectations for this visit?”  I was tempted to answer this question with one word:  Seriously?!!!  What the hell do you think my expectations are?  To come here for shits and giggles?  For God’s sakes it doesn’t take a genius to know my expectations are for you people to get me a baby in my belly stat stat.

Soon came the next section that had me squirming around in my seat.  Several questions about our sex life came up and stared up at me waiting to be answered.

How many times a week do you have sex?  Do you use lubricant?  Does it hurt you to have sex?

Wasn’t this kind of personal?  I’m a pseudo-prude and questions on my sexual escapades made the sweat glands in my armpits flare up.

After several more questions regarding my health and the health of every family member who shares genes with me, came my consolation prize.   Two pages of the “male medical history”.  These questions were fun and it was my hubby’s turn to squirm.

Do you have retrograde ejaculation of sperm into the bladder?  I don’t know how the hell that would happen but apparently it’s a thing.  And it’s a thing that sounds incredibly gross.

Did you have mumps after puberty?  Mumps?  Who the hell gets mumps these days? That’s not in fashion anymore.

Are you exposed to prolonged heat in the workplace?  Do you use hot tubs regularly?  Who knew the hot tub myth was true!!!  No more hot tubs for the hubby.  And I decided we were going to turn on the air conditioner all year long.

After 30 minutes of filling out forms we still weren’t done. So the first thing my doctor could see from our form filling out all those forms – was that we were not good at filling out forms quickly.  Good thing that’s not an absolute requirement for being pregnant or raising a kid.

That’s it for now!  To the next update….

Love Author M

Outside of having the “proper equipment” for babymaking, the other key ingredient to trying to conceive is the obvious…S.E.X. and it’s many synonyms:  Intercourse. Doing the deed. Bumping uglies. Putting some beef in the taco.

Whatever you choose to call it, unless you end up going down the medically-assisted route, this is your only other option to getting knocked up.

So, after months and months of trying to conceive, sometimes it takes a little motivation and inspiration to keep the love alive. No longer does playing footsy during a football game turn into a romp on the couch. Gone are the days when grinding on the dance floor of a club causes you both to rush home to get it on. Well…there might still be a little grinding on the dance floor. But spontaneous sex? Well in the days of babymaking – “spontaneous” requires work and preparation – Setting the mood. Cajoling with dinner. Enticing with some cute undies.

Why all this effort? Because the thing that we are all really trying to achieve is that elusive, plus sign on the pee stick.

Over the many months of trying, Authors S&M and their respective spouses have come up with interesting ways to “keep the love alive”.

1. Author M: Lingerie vs Jerseys (aka, How to convince your husband you’re sexier in sweats)

Because my bedroom attire is flannel pajamas, we negotiated that I buy a pair of sweatpants of my husband’s favorite football team with matching t-shirt.  They ran out of my size so yes – they were both TWO sizes TOO big for me. Whether or not he liked it, this is was the best he was gonna get.  The lingerie to this day continues to collect dust.

2. Author S: “Dance” lessons

Nope, not talking about the Waltz or Bhangra. Not even Salsa or the very sexy Bachata. Somehow I got roped into joining a group of my girlfriends for a striptease class at the local “gym”. It all seemed like good old fashioned clean fun with my friends until the statuesque and very stripper-looking instructor walked in. At one point, I was practically making out with the chair I was using as a prop. How did it go when I pulled out those moves for hubby one night? Picture me accidentally kicking him in the face as I tried to swing my legs around in a “sexy” move.
Clearly, I should leave dancing to the pros.

3. Author M: Booze.

A booze induced altered state of mind is the best aphrodiasic!  CAUTION:  This is a fine science and may backfire especially when you’re the only one drinking (excessively) and your husband comes home to a stinky uncoordinated mess.  Moderation alone and excessiveness together is the key.

4. Author S: Speeches

My husband has a special way of sending off his swimmers into the dark recesses of my uterus. He offers them a speech:

“Men! You will be launching the largest aerial battle in this history of mankind. Mankind — that word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. And we will not go quietly into the night!”

Sound vaguely familiar? Think Will Smith and Bill Pullman movie from 1990s. Or, if you know this speech all too well because you ALSO have to hear it around the same time every month, my heart goes out to you.

5. Author M: The Forbidden Fruit

Pretend you’re sleeping, it works every time. 

6. Author S: Game of Thrones

Have you noticed how some of these HBO and Showtime shows are practically like watching porn?! Gone are the days when I have to agree to watch sports so we can cuddle up on the couch. Nothing like watching rampaging half naked men in loin cloths wreak havoc amongst poor village folk to get us in the mood!

So there you have it!!!  If you haven’t found something that works for you now you have some additional ideas to work on 🙂

Till next time!

Love Authors S&M

High Protein – get skinny and get baby? Yes please!

Here’s the disclaimer for this post:  We really do love our mothers.  And one day we hope to be as wonderful and annoying to our children as they are to us.

Growing up, we were clueless so we looked up to our mothers for comfort and advice.  Somehow, mom always knew what to say to set things right. And if she didn’t have the right words, she would inevitably offer food as a means of comfort.  Later on as teenagers, we continued to listen to our moms, perhaps partially out of habit, even though we didn’t always like what they had to say.  Still they were often right when our juvenile emotions led to stupidity.

Then – you get older and you grow a brain and start to think for yourself.  Suddenly, Mommy’s words of wisdom are sometimes not as “Money” as they used to be.  You realize although she was the master of life advice when you were 10, some of the pearls now offered are a little out of date.  In addition you realize much of her advice is not quite based on scientific fact and be may coming from an alternate universe (or from early onset dementia).  This realization is further amplified when you grow up to be a doctor and your mother tries to give you medical advice that she swears is the cure for all your body’s problems.

But nonetheless we are good daughters and listen to Mommy’s advice over the phone, and offer our “Yes you’re Right”‘s and “Uh-huh”‘s to them, all the while practicing our eye rolls and make finger guns to our heads on the other end of the line.

Our Mother’s combined have offered us much advice on what we can do to create a fetus or why it’s taking too long to create a fetus.  We’ve decided to share this wealth of advice to all of you so may also employ it in your quest for mommyhood.  And if you’re not trying to be a mommy then share it with your friends who are. Or just share it because it’s hilarity.  These tidbits of love from our Mothers will be read much more enjoyably if you read the below mother statements with an Indian accent…

“This is because you do all that crazy exercising”  (You mean the 20 minutes I do on level 1 on the elliptical is killing my eggs?  Yes I better stop because I hear obesity is good for fertility)

“This is because you don’t take it easy.  You don’t have to go out with your friends for dinner you can stay home and rest”  (Yes, you’re right.  Getting in my car, walking into a restaurant, sitting on my ass and stuffing my face is probably a lot of stress on my uterus). 

“This is because you do all that dieting you should eat more”  (But wait then shouldn’t I go out to dinner with my friends more and eat shitty food?  This is confusing)

“This is because you do too much heavy lifting.  You should stop vacuuming”  (Ummm, ok thanks good idea.  I’ll send you the bill for the cleaning lady)

“Are you sure that the dog isn’t preventing you from getting pregnant.” (Yes the dog must be kicking me in the uterus while I’m not looking.  Better drop him off at the humane society stat.)

“You just need to relax and let it happen”.  (There’s that word again – relax.  YOU RELAX DAMNIT!! )

“You need to stop obsessing about getting pregnant then it will happen”  (But you’ve only been asking for a grandchild since the first day I got married!  You’ve planted the seeds of my obsession!)

“If you do this prayer and do this ceremony then it will happen” (Maybe… but first I gotta find a temple.  Can’t you do it for me Mommy?  And while you’re at it make me some Indian food?  Please?). 

“Next time you need a procedure I’m going to come to the Doctor’s office and I want to talk to him.  And then you have to rest I’m going to stay with you for a week or you come home to our place for a week.”  (OMG NO.  You just told me to relax – this would not happen with this plan. That and I think my doctor will hate me for being trapped in a room with my Mommy answering an hour’s worth of questions I already know the answer to).

God bless our Moms they are so sweet for caring about our uteri.  We love them dearly.  But we’re gonna leave the babymaking and pregnancy advice to our Doctors and the all knowledgeable Google.

Till next time!

Love Authors S & M