Prickly situation...

Oh, the things one will do to have a child.

Tom and I had an appointment with Dr. X yesterday afternoon to discuss our treatment plan following the start of the new year.

Next cycle, I am to begin a hormone injection called Follistim.  This is a man-made version of the follicle stimulating hormone (FSH) which occurs (or supposed to occur) naturally in the body.   Follistim AQ is used to treat infertility in women who cannot ovulate.  It regulates ovulation and assists in the growth and development of eggs in a woman's ovaries.

This is the kicker:  The drug is delivered by injection directly into the...ABDOMEN.  Some of you are aware of my slightly odd and unreasonable fear of belly buttons.  I have hated them ever since I remember, and cannot stand anyone (including myself) getting near mine.  They are disgusting.  Even the thought of someone touching my bellybutton makes me nauseous.  This being the case, I was extremely nervous at the prospect of giving myself a shot in the stomach.  I have had nightmares about this.

Yesterday, we even practiced administering the injection on little boob-like flesh simulators.  After a few stabs into the fleshy boob thingy, the nurse gives me a syringe and tells me to try it in MY STOMACH.  I felt like sayin' "What u talkin' bout Willis?!?"  Instead, my eyes got extra wide and I began to stutter.  I SO was not prepared to go all in today.  I thought this was just a class...I figured I still had a couple of weeks until I would be forced to put myself through such an ordeal.  But the nurse continued to insist that I give myself a shot right there in front of her for practice.

I looked to my left at Tom.  The blood had rushed completely from his face and he looked as if he would faint at any moment.  No help there.  Then I looked across the table to my mother.  She had just removed her practice syringe from the boob-like thing.  It was bent at a forty-five degree angle.  Even less help.  This is when I realized it would be up to me.  So, feeling the weight of expectation coming from the nurse, I went for it. 

To my surprise, and utter delight, I didn't feel a thing.  The needle is super small and looks very similar to an epi-pen.  As I pushed it into my stomach, I expected to feel like I was being stabbed to death (or at the very least a slight sting).  Nope, nothing.  My relief was palpable.

So, I had to give Cindy the nurse credit.   After it was over she informed me that she made me try it then and there so I wouldn't spend the remaining couple of weeks worrying myself to death.  And she was right, I had already been dreading giving myself these shots nightly.  Now, I can focus all my energy on worrying about other things...like the cost; whether it will work; etc. etc.  I'm not sure this is exactly what Cindy would want me to do with the spare energy, but it can't be helped.  If I'm being honest that is exactly what I will do.  But, at least Cindy's little plan took one of the worries off that list. 

Thanks Cindy!

Help me choose...

Our wedding is just weeks away and I am trying to get everything together.  I am trying to decide how I would like my hair that day.  I need your help!  Vote!!

Style #1:

Style #2

Style #3:

Style #4:

Style #5

Style #6

Style #7

What do you think?  I have some extensions to help poof up the volume  :)

The Final Exam

Today was the last procedure Dr. X wanted me to have prior to us beginning hormone injections and artificial insemination:  a Hysterosalpingogram (HSG).  This is a test where a radiologist injects a dye through your cervix and into your uterine cavity.  It is performed to determine female fertility potential, i.e. whether the fallopian tubes are open or blocked.  The dye travels through the uterus, into the fallopian tubes, spilling into the abdominal cavity.  Obviously, a blockage will prevent the dye from passing and this problem will be detected by the radiologist using an X-ray machine.


I knew it wasn't a good sign when my diet coke exploded all over me in the car on our way to the hospital.  And I mean, exploded everywhere.  My sweatshirt and pants were soaked.  I was already really nervous (as I always am prior to any of these type procedures), and the wet clothes did not help matters one bit.  As usual, I have to give my man props for knowing exactly what to do in this situation.  As I sat crying in the passenger seat and only moments away from a nervous breakdown, he did the three things that he knows will bring me back:  He held my hand, calmly repeated sweet words of reassurance, and otherwise kept quiet and let me do my thing.   Attempts to argue with or even reason me back down make me more agitatied.   Others don't realize this until its too late, and some continue with this strategy despite knowing it will fail.  Not Tom.  Its almost like he instinctively knows these things.  I love that about him.  In the heat of the moment during my emotional breakdowns, I am unable to recognize the genious in his manner.  But afterward, I am always super impressed by his ability to talk me down off the ledge. 

So, by the time we actually arrived at the hospital I had stopped crying and regained composure.  We checked into radiology and sat down to wait.  Just moments later I was called back to change into a hospital gown and wait in another area for my room to open up.  As I sat there, all alone, I became more and more nervous.  Thoughts and questions were flying through my head such as:  I know this shit is going to be painful, but just how painful?  Did I forget to shave my legs?  Oh shit, of course I did...Did I put this hospital gown on right?  Was I supposed to leave the opening in the front or the back?...How will  Oprah  get out of bed every morning without having an audiance full of drueling, idiotic, women to preach to?...What if they find a blockage in my tubes?  Jesus, what will we do then?...Which one of those Bush twins was the one arrested for underage drinking?...And so on, and so forth...

Finally, a nice lady named Rita came to get me for the procedure.  She took me into the X-ray room.  There was a large X-ray machine hanging over a large stainless steel table with stirrups at the end.  Oh, goody goody.  I stepped up on the footstool and laid down on the table.  Rita told me to scoot down, scoot down some more, and scoot down even more.  In fact, I thought she was going to scoot me right off the table.

She was busy trying to ready the room for the Doctor, who was late.  Judging from the fuss she was making, he was a bit of a perfectionist.  She kept telling me how this particular Doctor "made her nervous" and "would get on her" if things weren't exactly to his specifications.  The more she rushed to get things ready, the more my blood pressure went up. 

Rita left the room to call and see if the doctor was on his way.  There is something inherently initmidating about a hospital, and this effect grows when you are left alone in the exam room.  I laid there looking up at the big machine, my knees pointing directly to God, and felt nothing but panic.  Rita came back in the room to find me silently crying.  As tears poured down the sides of my face, I couldn't decide why I was crying, but I knew I couldn't stop.   

Poor Rita forgot all about the demanding Doctor and started comforting me.  She told me success stories, people who had the same procedure and became pregnant almost instantly.  She held my hand and brought me tissues.  She asked me about my family and my interests.  She destracted me from my sadness, my fear, and myself.  Rita got me through.  Today, Rita acted as my guardian angel.  Guess I should have gotten her last name.

So, when the Doctor finally flew through the doors, he got right down to business.  I won't go into detail about the procedure.  I will say it was painful.  It was akward and invasive.  But it wasn't unbearable.  I am glad its over, and I hope I never have to have it done again...

Despite the emotional rollercoaster and pain of today, I'm glad we did it.  Mostly because we got good news ~ my tubes look good!  There were no obvious blockages or problem areas.  So, Tom and I have the green light to start hormone injections whenever we are ready (aka finacially able). 

Final Thought:  This child better be worth all this damn trouble.  He/she better not grow up to be a disrespectful little shit like most of the kids I see in court, or grow up and wear one of those gross earring things that stretch a large gaping hole into their body.  Or turn out to be a democrat (don't worry Laurina, I'm just kidding)  :)

Some wedding Deets...

So, I thought I would share some of the deets of our small ceremony which is approaching fast!!!  New Years Eve!  We are so excited!!!  We got our wedding bands last night, so just about everything is ready. 

I want the front of my gown to remain a surprise, but here is a teaser...This is what the back looks like:

 It's very dramatic, and very vintage-inspired, and thus very me.  In my mind PERFECT for a 1940's themed murder mystery wedding  :)  To keep the drama going, I have will be wearing the following accessories:

The ceremony is being held outside on my mother's covered deck, so I will need a little something to cover my shoulders.  I think this will fit the bill!

I am known by friends and family, and in court, for my love of long, dangly, and at times mildly inappropriate earrings.  But I've never really cared what other people thought.  So who really cares if most of the other female attorneys wear small and delicate jewelry to court?  That's just not my thing.  So, it's only right that I bring out the bling big time for our wedding!   These babies are 3 1/2 inches long! 

As for my hair, I am thinking it needs to be up, vintage-y, and bangin'.  I have a beautiful headpiece with an ivory flower, crystals, and a few feathers.  I want something soft, not too fixed or glued tight to my head, and big.  Yes, people, I like big hair.  I am a southern woman and heart and believe the bigger your hair, the closer you are to God.   Besides that, I have a big head (which I believe is needed to store my large brain), so therefore I look postitively stupid without some body to my hair. 

So, that's all you get for now.  On the fertility side of things, I am scheduled to take my dye test this Thursday afternoon.  I will be glad to get it over with, and hopefully this is the last of the inquiry-related stuff.  Cross your fingers and hope for good news!



Blessings in Disguise

As a bit a of control freak, I tend to get very annoyed when things "don't go my way" as Tom would say.  Thus, I get nervous when plans get messed up or changed at the last minute.  I am working on this and trying to remind myself that the "plans" I make may not always be what the universe has in mind.  And, in the end, I really do believe that things happen for a reason.

One of these incidents happened this weekend.  Tom and I were supposed to attend a party Saturday afternoon at our good friends' home.  Ashton and Kyle are a hilarious pair.  They are engaged to be married this spring, and I couldn't be happier for them.  They had their annual "chili cookoff" on Saturday afternoon in honor of Kyle's birthday. Tom and I made our chili together Friday night and let it simmer in the crock pot all night.  We combined my Mamaw's Appalachian chili recipe with Tom's Texas/Oklahoma style chili.  It turned out awesome ~ I personally think we would have won first prize.  Saturday morning, Tom left for work and we were supposed to leave as soon as he got home.  He was only scheduled to work 1/2 a shift to help with the Christmas parade.  The party started around 11, and we were going to leave as soon as Tom got home which was supposed to be around 12.

Well, then there came the snow.  Tom had to stay over at work, and I was left sitting at home waiting for him to come home.  By the time he got here, he was cold, wet, and tired.  All he wanted to do was snuggle and rest.  I was disappointed and felt bad because we had to cancel on our friends.  For the old Amanda, this could have ruined my day.  But, instead, I chose to make the best of the situation and I'm so glad I did.

So, we took the chili to my mother's house (2 doors down) and watched movies in front of the fire with her and my stepfather Dave.  It was a lazy, cozy, night.  We all sat in our pj's, drank wine, and just relaxed.  It was wonderful spending quality time with family.  And it was just the thing both Tom and I needed. 

It just goes to show that maybe I don't always know best.  That sometimes, despite my best laid plans, I should just relax and let life happen.

And I think the same reasoning could be applied to our fertility struggles.  Although nobody wants to go through this, it has made us stronger.  It has confirmed to me just how committed and supportive Tom really is.  And hopefully, our struggle will make us that much more appreciative when it finally does happen. 

One of those Dorothy Zbornak kinda days.

So, I have an appointment to see my general practitioner this afternoon.  It's hard to explain, but I have been feeling just off lately.  These last few of weeks I have felt excessively drained of energy.  I have also had frequent headaches and stomach aches, which in and of themselves are nothing, but make life miserable when you are already feeling bad in general.  I know my body, and I know something is wrong. 

What is exactly wrong with me? I have three theories:  1. My hormones are causing me to feel this way  2.  I have run myself down and my mono is back  3.  My depression medication is no longer working.

1.  I recently went back on the birth control pill to complete the necessary testing associated with a fertility diagnosis.  I went back on Yaz, a pill I took with no problems a few years ago.  However, since I started this pill I have noticed that PMS symptoms have trippled.  I cramp excessively, have horrible headaches, and am sick to my stomach the week before my period.  Could this medication also be causing my general ickiness feeling?  Hum.  I don't know.

2.  I had mono at 16.  I have always heard that once you have had it, you will always test positive for it.  And if you don't watch yourself, you can run yourself down so much as to have it become active in your body again.  This would surely explain why I have been feeling so lethargic lately.  This past year has been a doozy.  Lots of exciting changes, but lots of stresses too.  Opening my own business has been a blessing in many ways: I am no longer at the mercy of others, I have flexibility in my schedule that is hard to beat, and I am the master of my own destiny.  But the flip side of that coin is that I'm never off.  I am always on call.  The life of a criminal defense attorney demands that your cellphone be on and within reach at all times.  People sitting in jail are not that understanding about "me time."  A missed call could mean a missed mortgage payment.  And as wonderful as it is to be master, it is also stressful.  I get no salary.  I live by what I make.  Most of the month I spend calculating and recalculating what I need to earn in order to pay next month's bills.  Maybe I have worried and run myself to death, therefore re-activating the dreaded mono.

3.  Over the years, I have had bouts with minor depression and anxiety.  In law school, I took Paxil for about a year.  This allowed me to get through the dreaded "first year" without going completely insane.  This past year, my doctor put me on Lexapro to help balance my innards.  Some people seem embarassed to admit these things, but I don't find any shame in it.  I'm not one of those people who think you should just muddle through until you find yourself with a noose in one hand and a gun in the other.  By God, if there is a medication available which can help, why not use it as another tool in your arsenal?  People are weird about that stuff.  But, anyways, I can't help but wonder if my current medication is no longer working as it should.  I see those commercials with questions like "Trouble getting out of bed?"  "Do you avoid other people?"  My answer is, yes, yes!  I hate getting out of bed in the morning, and as for people, I dread seeing them.  I am so tired of people in general and their never ending problems and gripes.  Does this mean I'm depressed or just a synical bitch?  I don't know.  And, do you have to be sad to be depressed?  Because I'm generally very happy about my life.  I do, however, at times get overly-stressed out and have my share of freak-out days.  I have even been known to have anxiety attacks where I have trouble breathing.  And, as much progress as I have made in accepting my fertility limitations, I would be lying if I said it never bothers me.  I still go through the whole thing at times:  the self-pitty, the why me?'s.   I don't know.  Maybe I'm just a whollotta crazy...

So, today I feel like Dorothy Zbornak (for all you Golden Girls fans out there) in that episode where she was finally diagnosed with CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome).  Remember when she told that Doctor off in the restaurant because he made her feel like a crazy and senile old woman?  Well, I'm gonna get my big girl "Bea Arthur" panties on and get to the bottom of this one way or another  ;) 

If I'm Dorothy Zbornak, does that make my mom Sophia?  LOL  ;)