I went on blog vacation for awhile…. because I was on real-life vacation.
Vacay was for my husband’s 30th birthday. We went and visited his family in Alabama, my family in Indiana, and then went to King’s Island in Cincinnati, and finally drove all the way up to Sandusky, Ohio to go to Cedar Point.
It was a whirlwind, but it was FUN. Although I told Sweet Husband that for our next vacay, we’re going to a single location with a beach, drinks, and relaxation being the primary order of business. He agreed.
Paleo has been treating me extremely well. I haven’t been perfect, by a long shot. There have been some days where I’ve abandoned Paleo altogether, eating gluten-filled, sugary foods that cause blood sugar spikes and nasty tummy aches, and afterwards, I *always* regret it.
While I was on vacation, I ate mostly low-carb, even if I couldn’t be perfectly Paleo. The second week of vacay, we were running low on money, and started eating food that was cheap, and usually on the dollar menu. Boy, was this a MISTAKE. My stomach is still buggin’ from bad decisions that I’ve made this past week.
What I’ve taken from this is a realization that Paleo is truly the best thing for my body. When I’m off it, my body finds a way to tell me that I should go back. Pimples pop up, my stomach grumbles, and my heart flutters from sugar spikes. And when I go back, I feel like I’m at homeostasis. I feel good. I’m energized, I sleep well, my face is clear of breakouts, and most of all, I lose weight. And if that is how Paleo makes me feel, I’m okay making it my lifestyle choice, and having bouts of “cheats”, or things outside that plan, from time to time. No person on this earth could completely give up everything that falls outside the realm of Paleo/Primal.
And hey! We’re back to the infertility conversation.
I’ve been purposefully ignoring this topic for awhile, as there didn’t seem to be much movement in one direction either way. I didn’t see any changes in fertility, and I didn’t see a point in broaching the subject if I didn’t have to. Oftentimes, I don’t want to think about it.
Did I mention that my beautiful sister is 35 weeks pregnant?
Obviously, every time I see her or talk to her, I feel my ovaries metaphorically twinging.
She has one daughter, C, who is the light of my life. She laughs, calls me “Aubbie”, and my heart melts. She has the goofiest little personality, and is just lovely to be around. She’s 19 months old, and whenever I can, I race up to my hometown to visit her.
She’s got another girl on the way, who should be here at the end of July. The difference in age between her daughters will be the same amount of time between us, so they’ll inevitably be close, which I love so very much.
My sister has had a perfect pregnancy. She’s eaten extremely well, done CrossFit for the majority of it, and now is what most women like to call “all baby”. Her body is in excellent shape, and she’s totally prepped for birth. When she has new baby, she will most likely spring right back, since she’s taken such good care of herself.
What does this have to do with my infertility? Very little, besides the fact that whenever I’m up to visit her, I’m constantly hoping for my own child, and that she’s an inspiration to me. I can only hope to treat my body with the respect and reverence it deserves if/when I get pregnant, and she teaches me that I should be doing that now, even before it happens.
My sister has been so very delicate with me. She considers my feelings, hears my fears and sadness when another month passes without a result, and cheers me on when I hear some good news. She’s my cheerleader. She’s my person I call when things go wrong, things go right, or I just need someone to hear me out, because she represents something I want and hope for so much in my own life….. Motherhood.
After Sweet Husband, she was the first person I called last night.
I’ve been doing ovulation tests of some kind for the last two years. I started doing the Progesterone blood tests on CD 21 about a year and a half ago, and started doing the pee stick tests about 4 months ago.
I’ve never had a positive ovulation test before.
I had my first one yesterday.
This is where I’m telling you, PCOS sufferer, that you NEED to try Paleo. Please. Try it. I’ve been eating somewhat Paleo for the last two months, imperfectly, and already, I’ve had my first ovulation since I began trying two years ago. I’ve tried every medication under the sun, barring injectibles, and none of them worked. I tried eating the Standard American Diet (Food Pyramid), and counting calories. I tried working out everyday. I did everything my OB/GYN told me to do, and nothing worked. NOTHING.
And now? Two months into eating a Paleolithic/Primal Diet without counting calories or working out heavily, I’ve had my first ovulation.
Will I get pregnant this month? Who knows. At this point, truly, I am not overly concerned with that, and am not going to sweat it, because I’m ovulating. My body has never been able to do this before, and suddenly, it’s simply doing what it should be doing.
I read so many stories of frustrated women who can’t seem to ovulate, and I’ve always been one of them. To those women who might be reading this…. Seriously. Paleo can help you, if you let it! Give it a try, just for a couple months. What can it hurt?!
One of the most difficult struggles I’ve had during my battle with PCOS and infertility is my relationship with “God”. I became angry with him long ago for pain that I felt when Old Boyfriend and I broke up. I’d begged him to release me from the pain in my heart, even if OB and I couldn’t get back together. I begged for some sort of release from my fears, sadness, and the dull ache I always felt in my chest.
Maybe he found a way to release me from those feelings when I met Sweet Husband.
Or maybe, I should be thanking my Sweet Husband for that instead.
Either way, when I hit my infertility wall, it was like the last straw. I was angry. I don’t think that word could even come close to encapsulating the rage I felt towards the “almighty”. In just a couple years, I’d experienced more loss than I could imagine, and found out that I may never be able to have children.
Wasn’t there something in the Bible that said God would never give you more than you could handle?
From that point on, I questioned the validity of the Bible itself. I questioned the existence of a God who could let terrible things happen. I questioned the church I’d went to for years, and grew tired of the recycled answers most of the people in the church had for me regarding certain things, most of them being more dogmatic than Biblical.
It was easier for me to see the world as chaotic neutral. Crazy things happened. There wasn’t a rhyme or reason to it…. those crazy things didn’t happen to benefit or hinder humanity. They just happened.
I haven’t prayed in years. I told my husband for the first time while on vacation that prayer had become a bit of a joke to me. Like, whatever I prayed for, the opposite seemed to happen, so I just stopped praying.
It was like I was the object of a cruel prank, and God was the prankster.
But yesterday, I took a risk, and prayed.
I thanked God for giving me some hope. I thanked him for giving me a husband like Colin. I thanked him for the roof over my head, for the ability to pay our bills, for excellent insurance, for my family, for food, for my doctor, and for many other things that I’d neglected to think him for over the last several years.
And then, I did a daring thing, considering my superstition regarding prayers in the past.
I prayed for help.
Conception itself is a bit of a medical mystery. While a lab can put together a sperm and an egg, they can’t make it implant in the uterus. There are things that we can’t force, and seem almost magical and mysterious…. just out of reach of human science.
I prayed for help in this area. I prayed that it’d attach, implant, and that I’d safely carry the baby.
Then? I prayed that if this didn’t happen, I could peacefully move on without too much sadness to disrupt our lives in a negative way.
(See what I did there? I gave God an out. If he can’t make one happen, he *could* make the other happen.)
I want God to be real. I want him to be benevolent and kind. And fair.
And I want a baby.
What I’m taking from all of this is that I should find a happy medium. I can’t look at God and say, “This is all YOUR fault!”, when I’ve clearly not been taking proper care of my body for years. So I’ll take a page from my sister’s page, and do right by my body, but also hope that someone out there can intervene where I cannot.
I can work, but I can also hope.
And hope is a powerful thing.