introducing baby talk fridays

I both wanted to chronicle this and keep it completely private out of the blog's eye. The thing is that sometimes it has weighed so heavily on my mind and gripped my spirit so forcefully, that I found without writing it, I was often experiencing "blogger's block." I thought at first I would keep this draft for myself and never share it. Then I thought I would because I have been so open about my PCOS in the past and reading about other's experiences with this quirky diagnosis have brought me such comfort. It is a great feeling to go from feeling so alone to feeling so understood. What eventually helped me make this choice is when I realized one of the most searched for keywords that brings people here to mccashew is rob pirelli. Some months there is a solitary googler, others many, but people continue nearly two years later landing here looking for information about him. It brings me such joy to know that people are searching for him and finding more than his obituary, or a news article, but my heartfelt words about the man he was, not simply the soldier. I google. You google. We all google and perhaps someone in search of answers and support might find this chronicle of our experience while they try to untangle their own. Perhaps I might help some random googler and that is why I am sharing this here.

These posts will be a regular Friday occurrence until my journaled entries run out. I don't normally post that day, so it won't interrupt mccashew's flow and yours neither if you aren't interested.

June 3, 2008

I had hoped that all the PCOS challenges were over for us. I had wished that somehow my pregnancy would miraculously correct all the mythical insulin issues I seem to suffer from. I had trusted, but I was wrong. Earlier this month, I discussed options with my physician, not because Steve and I were anxious to bring another nut into our life, but to prepare for the day when we might decide that we are ready. He, the doctor, brought it up. As I explained that I had initially thought that things were resolved, he shook his head avoiding my gaze and took a deep breath while holding my hand, when I explained that just two months after I thought it was all hunky dory, it suddenly wasn't. Clomid. Metformin. These were our options. Why must these conversations always seem to happen when Steve can’t be with me, when I am alone and unsure of what to do, what to think… angry at my body, but grateful OH so grateful that somehow we have Caroline. With all this drug business looming she seems like even more of a miracle than before, if that is even feasible.

My thoughts raced. “we aren’t ready now, are we?” “what if we are ready, but things don’t happen the way we want them to?” “when did it get this complicated?” Then they turned to my baby girl. "Would she someday need to bear this burden?" "Would she have to explain to her spouse that like her own mother she would need a smidgen of help and hope to even become capable of conceiving a child?""Was it fair of me to bring this upon perhaps not just myself, but another generation of McSomethings?" "Was I being incredibly selfish??"

I am completely aware of just how lucky we are. We have a child, a beautiful daughter. "Would we be asking too much to even consider another?" "Would Steve understand if even with drugs this might be our complete family?" Yes. He would. He would understand, I knew that immediately and it soothed me. It calmed me and brought me back from the brink of tears to a place of acceptance. This is the hand we have been dealt. Proceed with caution.

The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t right? My doctor and I chose Metformin and he recommended we do it immediately if we were entertaining Baby Numero Dos this year, or a low dose pill if we wanted to wait longer. I was not up for being a lab rat, no low dose pill, who knows what harm or good that might cause. I said, “bring on the Metformin!" We opted to start slow with just one pill a day for the first month. The last time around a previous doc had worked me up to three pills a day in just three weeks and that seemed a little drastic considering that we haven’t reached a place of absolute panic quite yet. We all agreed that we would work on achieving the lowest effective dose, the most minimally invasive medical solution.


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