BagMomma

Please update your feed, I moved!

2013-04-04T13:46:00.001-04:00

Hello loyal readers!

I moved my site over to Wordpress effective immediately. The .com version, that is, until I can create a self-hosted version on Wordpress.org

For this next gem of activity I will need technical assistance which I haven't located yet. My techie prowess only goes so far!

So.... please update your feed to http://bagmomma.wordpress.com

If you hit me up via bagmomma.com, or bagmomma.net I got your back there already. Those addresses will take you to my new home (or temporary as it were)...

Namaste!

Just Fishing

2013-04-03T10:37:00.001-04:00

We have had a fish tank, oh, for about a year now. It started as just a goldfish in a bowl, and morphed into a 26 gallon water world- complete with a percolating volcano and 15 of our fishy friends.

The boy loves it, but I have to say it is a laborious chore. Not to mention, fish seem to have a pretty perilous lifespan. For the fifteen in the tank now, we've probably had twice as many that didn't make it.

The challenge of having a big tank is keeping the environment stable. Much like the climate of a womb, fish can't survive without a constant unchanging and neutral place to swim around. There's the water temperature and filtration to consider, the pH and hardness of the water, the constant monitoring of things like ammonia and various chemical compounds that are far more scientific than what I can thoughtfully explain.

We had one catastrophe last summer where we lost all but two fish. I still don't know what happened but it was one of those events that brought up old wounds. One by one, the fish kept dying, despite all of my intervention. I cried (I'm such a baby) because I couldn't take care of a basic fish tank, and worse- my son was growing weary of my inability to keep any fish alive. I felt like I disappointed him, oh, how that hurt!

So I did what I've always done, which was google myself into a frenzy, read, educate, and then... keep going. I decided I would be the expert on fish care, and that OUR fish would never again die a premature death on my watch. Sound familiar???

Ironically, a few did die, but just a few and probably from old age, not my fish-tending skills.

Three weeks ago, I was sitting in my chair which I pulled up alongside the tank- to watch my kin, and there... in the biggest plant, I saw two baby fish the size of grains of rice swimming around and darting away from my big fish. I had fish babies! In aquarium lingo, my livebearers produced "fry".

Image: BagMomma

I immediately felt wistful for my two fishy friends. The likelihood of them being eaten by their own kind was high. I didn't expect them to live and did not have another tank to transfer them to, so I just waited and watched.

They are still here- eating flake food, and getting bigger.

How is this possible?

I still am worried for them, but they seem to be little ninja fish. They are fighters, and, for now... they live.

And as with all things in life, I wait and watch.

More Unexplained Fun

2013-03-15T11:16:00.001-04:00

Courtesy of me (and my bad artwork)

Late last fall, I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia.

Getting to this diagnosis was no picnic, let me tell you. This all began a few years ago when my body started going haywire, and for a moment I thought it was just cosmic payback from the years of dosing myself with injections for my infertility. "Great," I thought. "not only have I failed miserably, but I have completely hotwired and fried my endocrine system."

What a fitting last betrayal for my body to give to me.

I felt like I had the flu 24 hours a day. The pain wasn't localized to my joints, but rather all over. I started losing my hair. I felt like my mind was foggy at times. I just wasn't me.

I initially started with a dermatologist to address the hair loss that was so disconcerting. After two rounds of steroid treatments (injections! again) with no results, I started to wonder if all of my symptoms were linked. Meanwhile, I visited a rheumatologist who initiated me down the path of zeroing in on what the heck was going on. Maybe Lupus? How about thyroid disease? Then came the mother lode of all blood work panels. Which showed a lot of weirdness. I had a marker for Lupus but not the one that mattered most. I had a couple of other unnerving results that seemed "fishy" to my doctor, but after further evaluation... it came back to the most dreaded word... "unexplained".

Not again. That moniker will haunt me forever, I swear it will.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the last stop diagnosis in this realm is Fibromyalgia. Which is, the disease of last resort when nothing else fits.

Fast forward to now... symptoms remain the same. No better, no worse. EXCEPT my hair seems to be growing again, which is nice (even though it looks like I took scissors to my head as a bad joke... I call it an EXTREME layered cut). I have kept off the 45 pounds I lost, but blew out my knee at the gym before the holidays, so now I am not exercising like I want to. Like I needed to. I just can't get back in weight loss mode again.

It's a gosh darn vicious cycle.

You know what sucks about fibro? It's the gateway to hell. Because I am consumed with looking for the real reason I feel crappy... I really cannot wrap my arms around a diagnosis that may be totally off-base and can't be tested directly. Because, in truth, I do think there is something behind the curtain I just haven't figured out yet. Some yet-to-be-identified immune issue has and continues to lurk in my body. Lately, in my Google frenzy, I keep coming back to the topic of nutrition and malabsorption, and a possible link to Celiac disease.

You know what else blows? Doctors like to throw meds at you. I refuse to go on a maintenance medication, so I rely on a simple anti-inflammatory prescription which is dosed "as needed" to take the edge off. It does, and I move forward.

I have great days.

I have crappy days.

And so it goes. I rarely complain, because I am thankful that, so far, this is all it is. It certainly could be worse. There are people in my life right now fighting battles much bigger than my own, and it feels silly to even put ANY emphasis on my current condition. But, considering I spent 99% of my 45 years on this earth as fairly healthy, it sure feels like a buzz kill.

Baggage Momma

2013-03-11T12:22:00.001-04:00

Image courtesy of me

[tap... tap... is this thing on?]

I bet you thought I was never coming back. Well, to be honest I had to convince myself a little. Much like many of you, I hit a wall with my writing. Did I still want to write? What should I write about? Is anyone still going to read?

The funny thing about this blog... it started out 7 YEARS AGO as random thoughts, meandered down the mom path, then WHOA! a full stopover on infertility island. A loooong stop. A happy/sad/funny/shitty/omg/oh no/WTF kind of place.

...and then, empty space.

My son is turning 10 in a few months. The infertility journey has ended with a whimper. I'm back to being a working mom with a lot of junk floating around in my head. Unfulfilled dreams, beginnings, endings.

Mental baggage.

Who knew the title of this blog would take on a different meaning outside my love of handbags? BagMomma. as in... I got lots of baggage. And it's not designer for sure.

Now what?

I am at a crossroads again. But I miss writing. And for those of you I still stalk on your own blogs, check in on FB or lament on Twitter... it just feels wrong to not be writing somewhere. I have lost the two-way conversation I held so dear with many of you.

I'm not sure if I can stay here however. The memories are killing me. The fact that my most frequent keywords on this blog are miscarriage and 5dp5dt brings up memories that taste most bitter. I feel like I need a shiny place to leave the bags behind.

But where, and what shall I call it? Feel free to sound off in the comments, if anyone is present.

...if no one is here, well, I am a whiz at talking and no one listening, so I got it covered for now.

Undecided

2012-08-07T22:57:00.000-04:00

Why is it so hard to make decisions as we get older?

Is it because we are fearful of repeating mistakes from our youth or have we grown so wise to know that even small decisions can propel us onto a vastly different path?

I used to say I have grown to be a better decision maker because of age and wisdom. It has given me the luxury to better weigh the pros and cons of any situation. That old tried and true method of making a list? It still has its merits.

But lately, I've grown wistful of being that carefree young girl that acts first and hopes for the best. Where is that girl that jumps in head first? Why am I so afraid to walk to the edge and look down?

Truth be told, I have a right to be scared. My track record lately... Dubious.

I have no right to expect... anything close to perfection. In fact, I've gotten a heavy dose of imperfection in recent years. I've learned to live with that. Yet I still made decisions with a belief that they were for the best.

Even when I learned, in hindsight, they were not.

Bad decisions? They sting a little more because we realize they were bad after much reflection. Which sort of makes it all the worse, because it feels a ton heavier when you micro-manage the hell out of a situation and still realize the buck ultimately stops with you. Forever. It is a bitter pill to swallow.

Each time we allow the doubt to creep in, a little confidence is chipped away. And if there isn't enough good stuff in the meantime to fill the gaps? Well, decisions move from a simple yes/no to an albatross on your back.

I am stuck under an albatross.

And because of my inability to make a decision, multiple decisions really- I am struggling under a weight just too big to budge.

Moving up and out

2012-06-26T11:30:00.000-04:00

David's last day of school was only this past week. His school year ended late and also was extended due to a weird HAZMAT scenario (yeah, don't ask... too complex to describe) that occurred about a month ago which resulted in the kids being off for a whole week. AFTER they gave back the "snow days" we didn't use with the mild winter.

Genius!

I have a 4th grader now. That sounds a little scary, no?

David ended the third grade with straight A's all year long. Considering the rough start we had with him at the beginning of his elementary schooling, I am so proud of my boy. He even received "Student of the Month". OMG. He obviously takes after his mom, right?

In local neighborhood news, a Wal-Mart opened a mere stone's throw from my house. After hemming and hawing a good deal (and whining... why? whyyyyy? not a Target for crying out loud?!?) I decided to check it out. I've since been there 3 times in the last week. Don't judge me. It's still new. The crazies haven't shown up yet.

In personal upgrade news, I joined a gym.

Really, no joke!

Trust me, this was years in the making. Stepping foot into a gym was one of the scariest things I've done in a long time. I even have a personal trainer. Well, until my complimentary sessions run out anyway. Then I either have to pay up to keep him, or be left to my own devices with my "personalized plan". I've actually surprised myself with what I can do. I even mastered figuring out how to turn ON the equipment, so that's a plus. There's a weight circuit too, and even if I don't take on a dedicated trainer, that circuit is staffed all the time. Which is great because I think it might take some time to work up to setting my on weights and seat positions. And let's face it, even having the illusion of a ~~hot~~ trainer responsible for my wellness is better than none.

I kid.

The net-net of it all is I feel I am in good hands, and as long as I show up my minimum 3x per week, I may just start seeing the skinny girl that has always lurked inside me itching to get out.

Maybe?

Run-on Sentence

2012-06-12T11:14:00.001-04:00

This is not a post about grammar. Certainly not from a former business major.

I hate ambiguity. I hate 700 page books (although I read them anyway) because I want to rush to the end. I micro-manage my life to receive the biggest "bang for the buck", in the least amount of time of course. My usual mode is get from point A to point B. It works for me.

My infertility journey, not so linear. Pretty much a never ending book.

My story is different than many that walked the path before me and alongside me.

There was no success, no "graduation", no closing of a book in a defined timeline. My journey ended with a big question mark followed by a ... as in, to be continued... but for how long?

Some days I almost forget how I got here, and other days it hits me square in the face. On the worst days I encounter a random event that feels much like a bandage being ripped off from a fresh wound.

A friend of mine is having a very complicated and extended ending to a miscarriage of sorts, similar to one of my losses years ago. It brings me back to a place I hate to go. Uncertainty, irony, sadness, anger, and impatience at the world. Oh, how I feel her pain.

Today is one of those days I am rolling in the muckity-muck. My heart feels raw for all of us that don't get the happy endings and neatly wrapped gift... rather those of us who get the loosely wrapped present... paper ripped, tape falling off, bow askew. What the hell does one do with that mess?

For a long time I felt mad, and over the years I just could not shove it into the dark or bend the hurt and anger into something worthwhile. Sometimes when my guard was down, the feeling faded into the background, but it never really left. Just lurked out there, waiting. Unresolved.

I mean, my path is highly unusual. I get it. I have a son from some miracle of miracles and then the train went off the rails. Trust me, I know how fortunate I was. Once.

But let's get real- secondary infertility often drives odd judgement from others. I try to fly under the radar and brush the naysayers to the side. I run into them often (and they are always fertile beings, ironically).

No, I am not always happy with what I have. Does that make me a terrible human being? No. It means I am being truthful and allowing myself to feel the disappointment- and, without disappointment, the joys in life just don't shine as brightly.

It's okay really. But what stings the most is never knowing when "to be continued" turns into "The End."

That sentence can be short, or painfully run on.

No ending in sight.

Walking Weirdos

2012-06-01T10:19:00.001-04:00

Photo Credit: caioschiavo via Flickr

The zombies are coming!

First it was the dude in Miami that ate the face off another guy, now there's weird stuff happening in my own backyard in Jersey.

This guy was apparently trying to stab himself to death but he didn't die! Weirdo was throwing his entrails (ick!) at the police! And, get this... he was resistant to pepper spray.

Zombie Apocalypse may be closer than we think, people.

Summer Nights

2012-05-31T10:37:00.000-04:00

What's going on?

It's been awhile, and as usual life moves at lightening speed. Recently, my boy turned 9 years old. I know. I am equal points proud of my little man, and frankly, a little unhinged that the next birthday is a big one for him. My little boy, not so little anymore...

Yeah, everyone talks about how fast time moves along, but I swear I can't tell you where this year is going. I've been busy continuing on my life improvement journey. It's going really well. I had a review of blood work and my cholesterol is normal! for the first time in my life. I am still losing weight, which is awesome. I am, however, still losing my hair (boo) and dealing with moderate to OMG pain! muscle and joint issues (for which I have a specialist appointment in June). So, good news/bad news I guess, but I'm just happy to put my health first. I'll get there one step at a time.

Summer is looming, oh heck, it's here I guess. The boy finishes 3rd grade on the 20th of June. We joined a swim club, once again (and maybe taking advantage of it more frequently when I'm not working). I joined a CSA (Co-Op) at an organic farm this year. First time doing this, and I am all kinds of excited. Will post some pictures of my bounty over the summer. As long a we don't have a drought here in the Northeast, I should be very happily stocked with veggies.

Photo Credit: aandrec75 via Flickr

Vacation cannot come soon enough. Summer means our annual road trip down south to Hilton Head Island, SC. I am looking forward to my feet in the sand. My chair is waiting...

Lastly, it finally dawned on me why I find it so hard to blog here, and the reason came quite clear to me in the shower this morning (whaat? I do my best thinking in the shower)... I hate this platform I am on. I am going to finally reinvent and renovate this place and move it to WordPress. I have a couple other places I've been writing, but it only seems like I am cheating on my first love, which is BagMomma and the years of history I have here. So, I am consolidating, shutting the doors on extraneous blogs and coming home (here)... although here will be "there" soon. Dresden, are you reading? I may need a line on some technical help to accomplish what I want to do. :-) For those of you that are still hanging in, thank you. I am still here and will continue to be, even more.

Photo Credit: admiralspalast via Flickr

The title of this post? I heard this "Grease" classic while in line at a store a couple days ago, and I can. not. get it out of my head. Danny and Sandy on the brain.... my son thinks I am crazy as I have sang the complete song from end to end while sliding in the kitchen. He has not seen the movie "Grease" yet, even though I bet I can find it in five seconds on any cable channel right now. I'm thinking I will need to bust out the soundtrack at least so he knows I am not making this sh!t up. If you could only see the perplexed look on his face when I burst into my medley... in 1978 I WANTED to be Sandy SO BAD... of course that was when Travolta was... ummmm... more appealing.

Heh.

Avoiding the Obvious

2012-04-24T22:27:00.000-04:00

The message for National Infertility Awareness Week is "not to ignore infertility" and instead of preaching the message, I am here to tell you I am guilty of doing just that.

I came here on Monday ready to write a sun-shiny post (like I do every year) to support the message. But nothing came. I just stared at the keys on the keyboard.... unable to find any words.

The words did not come because of sadness- that my infertility journey was a long, wasted effort into the depths of hell and back with no success.

The words did not come because of anger- for myself and my sisters, that our journeys are sometimes dismissed by our fertile friends, or worse, ignored completely because Infertility happens "to other people" or "for reasons we are not supposed to know...". Hmmmmmm.

The words did not come when the fifth fish died in our new fish tank yesterday. Yes, a fish tank. It appears that I experienced a nuclear meltdown when I reminded my husband that we lost five humans via miscarriage, and GOD DAMMIT we had five fish we couldn't keep alive in a tank.

The words, very simply, did not come until about an hour ago... when I realized that my journey came to an end a few years ago, and I've been avoiding thinking about it.

Avoiding.

I am thinking about it now, and the feeling I feel.... is emptiness.

I pray that anyone reading this never, ever walks my path. I hope to God that I have taken the statistical bullet for you.

Because I could never bear to know and love a friend and have this ending be a reality for them too.

For you.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Egg

2012-04-02T21:53:00.001-04:00

Last I left off, I was having a moment of clarity and obsession in the middle of the night with a bottle of Gatorade. Since then, I have managed to completely change my life and the direction of my health.

This is a big thing for me. As much success I have had in other areas of my life, I had as many failures in caring for myself. I wish I could say that it was totally a result of work/life imbalance, because honestly, I had myself believing that too.

It wasn't.

I know now that the struggles with infertility wasn't the real issue either. It was tragic, yes, but not the crutch that hindered me from being a better version of me.

It was simply, me, being unkind to myself.

Putting myself last because I never, ever knew any differently. Since forever.

It is probably a blessing I don't have a daughter. Somehow, I am sure that I certainly would have carried on my own insufficiencies into another human.

I have a plastic Easter egg in my desk at home, once shoved into the back corner of my junk drawer. In the egg, I wrote words on a slip of paper. It was an assignment I received at a weight watchers meeting in 2005. For the umpteenth time, I was trying to preserve any part of me that I could. Control SOMETHING, anything.... I was in survival mode, really. My WW leader asked us to each write a promise to ourselves and put it in the egg.

I wrote...
"I want to love me."

I stuck that purple egg in the drawer. I knew it was there. I knew it was there each time I failed, fell off the weight wagon, again and again. I knew it was there each time I sunk my spoon into a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream because I wanted to deaden any emotion that even came close to admitting failure. I remembered it was there when I cried because I made a mistake, a bad decision, hurt someone, or let myself down.

Yet, in four years I just left it unopened. I figured I would eventually toss it out next time I purge the junk drawer. After all it was JUNK.... Right?

JUNK because I just couldn't take seriously the thought of ever loving myself.

Then, the ultimate low. The last straw that proved that I was insignificant and not worthy of any goodness. Failing at completing my family, losing confidence in my professional worth, hitting rock bottom.

Then, with almost impeccable timing, my body started to revolt. It was pissed off over being mistreated and discarded. I got scared. I spent the last 6 months in a revolving door of doctors. My bones ached. I couldn't walk. Was I depressed, sick, or going mad? I suddenly felt all of my 44 years crashing down on me. Tentative diagnosis as of now, Fibromyalgia and sleep issues, waiting another referral to rule out more bad stuff. Merely the tip of an iceberg, but a step to knowing.

A wake-up call indeed. It was time to get my temple in order.

This was my rock bottom.

I remembered the egg. It wasn't going to gather dust any longer. I finally opened it this past January, and renewed my promise to me.

Something is different... this time. I can't put my finger on it. I still have days I feel like I am 90 years old, but I also have days I feel I can conquer the world. I changed the way I view food. Which is insanity in my mind anyway... I have this bad habit of never breaking bad habits. But here I am, three months later, and finally giving myself the time to heal and be renewed. I am not going to let anything chip away at the progress I made. It shows on the outside.. I am a pound shy of 30 pounds lighter. In physical weight. Probably even lighter on an emotional level.

There is no reason I should feel so good while feeling so bad.

But I do.

Strangely, my newfound love is catching root in the oddest of places. My husband, my son. They don't see the positive change around us, but I do.

I still have a long road ahead. But for the first time ever, I am walking in my own shoes, feeling my heart, accepting the unclarity of life, and not afraid to fail.

My egg, no longer collecting guilt and dust...

...now, my lucky charm.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

You're a hard habit to break

2012-02-02T23:28:00.001-05:00

Am I crazy?

Well, I AM sitting in bed typing this late at night while guzzling a sports drink. I just about had a coronary a few minutes ago soon after quenching my thirst realizing that I was inadvertently drinking Weight Watchers points.

Wait, let me use my nifty scanner on my iPad.

Oh damn, I just drank 4 points. Argh!

Habits, so hard to break.

Sigh............, I'm back on the wagon. For the 2,566th time.

So while I've been spending time away from this place, life happens. This latest foray into weight control has no connection to a new years resolution. Rather, it's a pure scared straight lesson for a middle-aged woman. I guess that's what I am now, today... middle-aged.... If I happen to live to the age of 88.

Another birthday has solidified my need to do things differently.

Lately, I've been spending far more time in doctor's offices and labs than normal. It appears that this may continue into the foreseeable future. No firm diagnosis yet, just chatter and prognostication.

Damn, I've always wanted to use the word "prognostication" in this blog. Yes!!
Another item on the bucket list.

I had a blood draw a few days ago, and I stumped the nursing staff when my best vein decided it would shut down between test tubes 5 and 6. I had 9 to fill, so they poked around in my bad arm. Made me wistful of the good 'ole days at the RE office during infertility treatment. Those nurses knew my arms like they had a built-in GPS unit.

What I know for sure is I feel like I am 88. My muscles are so, so tender. My hair, well...you know... but now it pales in comparison to the other issues. Walking is a chore. It feels like I am trapped in a stranger's body. I don't know if losing weight will cure the diagnosis on the horizon, but I know it will help.

Thank goodness this situation hasn't curbed my Internet use. (snicker)

So, there I go again. The only beast as big and scary as infertility is losing my health, and I'll be damned if I take this next chapter of life laying down.

No pun intended.

I had thought about not posting any of these new developments here, but then, I thought... well.... I've already talked about the vag-cam for years, what the hell is the difference at this point.

I'm getting tired of thinking about blog posts in my head and never coming back here to type them.

So, for the handful of you still around, be forewarned, I am going UNFILTERED. I have no idea what I just meant there, but it sounded cool.

I've already blogged for 6 years here, what's 44 more?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

My iPad is killing me

2012-01-30T22:25:00.001-05:00

I have a love/hate relationship with My iPad. More love than hate, to be honest... maybe a little co-dependent. Maybe a lot.

It started innocently enough. I became a proud owner of an iPad shortly after they arrived on the scene.

I became hypnotized by the HD screen. I marveled at how Angry Birds looked so much more colorful and vivid compared to my iPod Touch. I loaded my four e-mail accounts with ease. I transferred my Kindle books. I started playing Words With Friends...

Pretty soon I was taking my iPad everywhere. To work, to the waiting area at my son's karate, on vacation... and to bed.

That's when things got messy.

I was reading into the wee hours of the morning, only to fall asleep with my iPad leaning precariously on my bed.

I was losing sleep.

Then, my husband (bless him) bought me another iPad. A shiny iPad 2. It had a camera. Which pleased me greatly since I was dying to try Instagram ( my cell phone is, alas, an Android... pity).

I powered it up, connected to my home wifi only to lose my signal. Hmmmmm.... This is odd. My old one is still working...

After three days of dropped connections, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to visit my friendly Apple store. So I do, and I meet the nicest tech guy who decides to swap out my newest child... Er.... iPad.

iPad 2 (#2) arrives home. Except this one is also a dud. I see a very unsightly message on my wifi settings. After consulting Google, I fear I have loved my iPad into hardware failure.

Why hast my iPad forsaken me?!?!? (shaking fist to Steve Jobs in heaven)

Back to the Apple store.

The same tech guy sees me coming, a mere 3 days later, and he proclaims I have some real bad luck.

Um, no.

Worse.

iPad 2 (#3) is DOA. The poor thing didn't even barely make it out of the cardboard box at the store. Screen dead.

Ooops. At least now I know it's not me. A group of 4 Apple employees all look very flushed with embarrassment. I still retain my charm even though my blood pressure is tipping into the danger zone.

Please! You. Must. Give. Me. An. iPad. That. Works. Don't make me cry at the Genius Bar. It will be messy.

iPad 2 (#4) becomes my new friend. Hey look, the wifi works! It worked IN the store and AT MY HOUSE, and at Starbucks!!!

Holy moly, I am on a roll.

Seven days of bliss so far.

My iPad is still killing me... but I love it anyway. Oh how I missed the simple, sleepless, nights.

Be well, my new friend.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Hark! The Angels Sing in Irony

2011-12-20T20:44:00.003-05:00

Where to start?

This has not been a banner year.

The eight year old in me will tell you flat out that it sucked. The big girl in me will tell you that I was not quite prepared for the curveballs thrown at me.

It seems I broke myself while attempting to reinvent me.

To continue the saga of the hair loss situation, last I left you I was only 40% bald, and receiving monthly cortisone injections to the scalp from a dermatologist. Since that time, I also modified my vitamin regime, and started cl.obetasol, to stimulate my hair follicles into reproduction.

Follicles, reproduction!

I feel like I am in my old infertile world. Not.

Alas, the treatment led me to a now depressing 60% bald, but bonus! thicker eyelashes, which is pretty ironic. I am soon appearing on a street near you as Sinead O'Connor circa 1990 or as an extra on The Walking Dead.

My primary care physician is more concerned with my cholesterol (which is high) and my weight. I am more concerned about my lethargy, weird appetite, random muscle aches, and the hair. The hair. A complete blood work up revealed normal everything (thyroid, blood sugar, etc.) nothing but the high cholesterol, so their take is I just need to eat better. SURE. DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?

Something is clearly wrong. Since I don't need referrals on my health plan (thanking my unlucky stars) I intend to find my own damn help.

My dermatologist broke up with me (i.e. ran out of ideas) and gave me the name of a doctor that heads up a very large specialty practice for all things hairless and/or Sasquatch. So over the bridge I will go. The benefit to this place is they intend to look at other reasons, specifically the immunological ones.

I will tell you that I've spent far too much time on Google, and the same things do come up, so I am really over the fear of the situation, I just want to KNOW WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. I hate to use the word ironic twice in one post, but isn't it ironic (fourth time) that a girl that never even went to the doctor except for infertility, paps, and mammograms is now willing to go to the ends of the earth for a decent one?

This post merely covers the health aspect of my life right now. Trust me, there's lots more 2011 garbage, I just can't seem to put the words together.

I feel like a total mess.

Damn, I really thought this would be a great year.

Fooled again.

The future is bright

2011-11-12T10:14:00.001-05:00

A diagnosis and an emotional meltdown

2011-10-19T13:42:00.000-04:00

Alopecia areata.

Well, that's the diagnosis anyway.

I had another visit to the dermatologist and received another bucket of injections to the head. My hair is still falling out, although it is slowing down just a bit. Perhaps that is because 60% of my hair is gone.

Less to fall out, you know.

I am seeing some regrowth, thanks to the cortisone injections. Just very fine hairs, and very small, but some. When I pull what hair I have back into a hair clip my head looks like a bad stylist went psycho with scissors. Thankfully, most of the bald spots are on the sides and underside of the hair that I have, so when the hair on top of my head falls left or right, I look not as terrible.

BUT.

Something happened at my appointment that terrified me.

Mr. Dermatologist reviewed my health history, and said... "hmmmmmm... I see you have a long history of recurrent miscarriage and infertility. Are you still pursuing that?"

Then, a long pause and lump in my throat. "no, why?"

He continued to explain that alopecia is sometimes a manifestation of underlying autoimmune issues. "Well, if you had come to me with this issue when you were doing treatment, I would have referred you to a doctor for more specialized testing, beyond typical testing for recurrent miscarriage.... because, well, you never know.... I have seen this..."

He went on with an explanation, but all I heard from that point on was ringing in my ears and a feeling that my stomach had sunk to my feet.

I had some basic autoimmune and clotting testing done after my second miscarriage, but I had always wondered if I dug far enough. I only had the basic panel. I was thisclose to referring my case on my own to a well-known doctor who works with this scenario after miscarriage #5.

And I always, always thought something was quirky with my immune system.

Weird illnesses.
Skin reactions.
Bad reactions to certain fertility drugs.
Curious reactions to anti-inflammatory drugs.
Pregnancies that progressed just so far and miscarriages that always ended with a normal tissue analysis. No chromosonal abnormalities. Normal. Normal. Normal.

But I had a baby once before! Doctors surmising... just bad luck, BAD LUCK.

Ok, changed our mind.... bad EGGS. After all, you are over 40 now!

I asked my RE back then about immune issues, but was told it was improbable with one normal, live birth.

Improbable, but not impossible...

I was sent on my way from the dermatologist with a prescription for topical hair medicine and a diagnosis.

But now?

I think I just opened a new door I can't shut.

And the answer?

It may just as well break me for good.

I remember you

2011-10-15T14:22:00.000-04:00

I suppose I will never be able to let October 15th pass without thinking of how different life would be today.

If only.

If only they were here.

Please keep those you love close, and if a friend needs and ear, offer it. It's not talking about loss that hurts our feelings, it's pretending it never happened at all.

Love today to my sisters-in-loss, and to the angels gone too soon. xo

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Hair today, gone tomorrow

2011-09-14T16:58:00.002-04:00

You know, I never loved my hair.

In fact, I was pretty sure I hated it until about four months ago when it started falling out.

In bunches.

In the shower, over the sink... on my pillow, in my food. My hair volume is about 50% of what it was earlier this year. I had my thyroid re-tested, miscellaneous bloodwork.. all normal. I eliminated common causes of hair loss, until I was left with one explanation...

Stress.

It may have triggered my follicles to cease and desist. This equally pisses me off and makes for, yep, MORE STRESS.

Brace yourselves...

Yes, my actual head.

Notice anything BESIDES the thinning hair?

Like red prickly marks?

That was where my dermatologist shot 15 needles INTO MY HEAD.

Scalp to be exact.

I had no idea where he was going with the appointment when he asked, can I give you a steroid injection? To see if it helps your situation? To which I said, yes, whatever.. PLEASE FIX MY HAIR.

I kinda had a panic attack shortly after ... I VAGUELY remembered him asking me to collect my hair in envelopes over the next week or two, then all of a sudden the injection (that I thought was going into my arm) was aimed at my head. Oh, and the best line yet...

"this may hurt a little..."

OMFG. It paled in comparison to the, oh, 1000 or so shots I endured during my active duty in infertility. I'd sooner shoot an intramuscular needle into my flesh blindfolded than endure this torture.

He kept injecting and injecting all over my head. My eyes started to water when he proceeded to massage my scalp.

Then he smiled sent me on my way with my homework assignment and set up my next appointment. I am forever changed. And I have a headache.

The only thing scarier than this visit will be the bill when it comes in the mail.

Or if I go bald. (please noooooo)

Ten Years

2011-09-09T13:30:00.001-04:00

It's been ten years.

If you've been a reader around my blog for awhile, you know that I try to somehow touch on the remembrance of 9/11 each year this date rolls around, whether it be in a blog post, Twitter, Facebook, or just with a pen to paper in my own thoughts. You can read some of the posts here, here and my original story here.

I am feeling a bit unsettled this year. I know that people are naturally drawn to "milestones" so of course ten years does mark an important passage of time. It seems like yesterday, I suppose. But then again, it seems like a lot has happened since then.

So, we all grieve in different ways, ways right? No way is the right way. All of them are valid, of course, depending on how close or far your were to the day's events.

I consider myself "once removed", that is... I worked a block away from the World Trade Center that year (traveling in from Jersey on a regular basis). My heart was there that day, but I wasn't... just by the sheer luck of a meeting reschedule. I didn't personally know anyone that perished, but I knew quite a few that escaped (narrowly).

I watched all the TV coverage over the initial months, fearful that I could have certainly been a casualty if not for a random event. Wondering what may have been, feeling gut-wrenching sorrow for those families and co-workers, alive and dead, enduring the pain of loss.

In recent years, I stopped watching any media coverage. Why? Well, it's hard to say this but each year after, I started to feel "dirty". Much of the coverage seemed a lot less to do about recovering and more to do with "news that sells".

You know what I mean... or maybe I should explain. Why is it that only certain families losses are featured over and over? Some have become mini-celebrities in spite of themselves. Out of all of the thousands of people that died? I must put a disclaimer here, as I don't want to offend anyone. I just find much of the news coverage to be....

indulgent.

A local news radio in my area is replaying their segments from September 11th this Sunday. And the point of that is.....?

For me, remembering is all about paying our respects to those who died and continue to die because of what happened that day. I feel sorrow for the victims, the families, friends, co-workers, and loved ones that continue to live life in memory of the ones that can't.

I pay respect to our servicemen/women who have worked tirelessly to keep our country safe, even losing their own lives for it.

What I don't want.. the drudging up of emotions for shock value. Such as, replaying a live segment (which I heard last year) when a broadcaster realized that the "thumps" they were hearing behind them were not bits of building, but bodies dropping from the towers before they fell.

Is this how we remember?

It just doesn't seem right to me. But then again, we all find our own way to lessen the pain I guess. I hope you find your own, and that this weekend finds you safe with those you love.

xo

The Wheel

2011-08-29T18:11:00.000-04:00

Somehow, I found my way to watching the VMA's on MTV last night. I had just sat down on the recliner after mulling around and cleaning the kitchen.

Man, I was tired.

No sleep from the night before after standing guard during the hurricane (we survived just fine, btw, save for a few hellish tornado warnings). I felt like my weekend had passed in a blur. The whole week for that matter.. so many natural disasters!... so little time.

Anyway, I tuned in just as Beyonce was rubbing her newly pregnant belly. Of course, I'm sure she's a nice and deserving mother-to-be, but I will freely admit that the image really hit a nerve.

As a knee jerk reaction I posted this on Twitter:

And then... I put down my iPad and cried.

It has been a long time since I had "that" feeling. It's as if the world shrank into a teacup and I could feel my body sinking into it. It's been a long time since I registered such an intense reaction from a purely random event. You would think several years after stopping infertility treatment, the pain would be a little less raw, but no. It was a hell of a lot more like ripping a band-aid off an open wound at sonic speed.

I failed.

I can never redeem myself from the fact that I failed! I walked away from failure (although it felt a lot like running at times) and on days like yesterday I feel like I am barely capable of even crawling.

But worse than that I still suck at not letting my emotions overtake me when I see someone happy and pregnant. There is no amount of self-discovery, therapy, or nachos that can deaden that insane feeling. It's ridiculous. Why can I not move on from this??

I am a hamster on a wheel, always chasing, running, hoping to get somewhere and ending up back where I started.

I wished so hard that this feeling would go away, and I can say with certainty, now, that it will never go away.

And I am just so damn tired of living with it. So fucking tired.

Stormy Weather

2011-08-27T16:27:00.001-04:00

Well, I am writing to you, presumably, before the electric company says I am to lose power and quite honestly I am also wondering if the end of days is here.

So, to recap the last 7 days...

We had 9 inches of rain about a week ago. The house didn't float away, but I really thought it might... our adjacent neighbors had water in their basements and several cars were underwater. We had but a trickle of water in the basement, and thanks to the pack-rat in me, a strategically placed bucket captured about a quart of water. Oh, who am I kidding... It was a bucket I shoved into the closet 2 years ago. But it saved a wet carpet.

Then, four days ago, a 5.8 earthquake shook the Eastern seaboard. And my office here in New Jersey. It freaked me out only because I thought something was wrong with me... I was suddenly nauseous, then noticed the building I was in was swaying, along with me, my chair, and my 2011 calendar on the wall.

Then... Today.

Irene.

So, really... are you kidding me? Now, a direct hit from a hurricane??

I really feel like I should have paid more attention to the warnings from Nostradamus. Or, perhaps zombies are the final sign.

I spent the last day reading about hurricane preparedness, freezing ziplock bags of water for future use, and fighting traffic and insane people for a few cases of water and a manual can opener.

And, then, to top off the madness... I received a recorded phone call from my electric company, TELLING me that I may as well kiss my power goodbye tonight. Oh, and by the way? They may not get around to restoring my power for an extended period of time.

I've decided that they are either being meticulously proactive, or idiots.

Meanwhile, it started raining heavy here about an hour ago. I sit writing to you via my iPad perched on my recliner. My house is about 35 miles from Atlantic City. Our county is not under mandatory evacuation, but I can sure as hell do the math since the evil eye of Irene will be passing us mere miles off the coast. I am more than mildly concerned.

We are ready (I think) and I am praying for the next 24 hours to go by fast. They say the worst will be during the night. I guess it's better everything will be at its worst in the dark. I really don't want to witness 90mph winds with my own eyes.

And, when the time comes that I lose power... I guess the silver-lining is I don't need to notify my electric provider. Apparently, they are shitting bricks waiting just like me.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Beach Bummed

2011-08-03T17:20:00.000-04:00

Well, July just flew by.

As promised I present you with photographic evidence of my spray tan. It looked great (ignore my mean face). Even coverage, no streaks, and no orange glow. I methodically used the blocker lotion on my hands, feet, knees and elbows as directed... and it was easy. Would definitely do it again, and especially for a unique occasion. For those of you who asked, the tan was via VersaSpa (not Mystic) and I chose the medium tone. I am intrigued to try the dark tone, but a little scared. Maybe on a week I know I don't have to go anywhere just in case.

So, l took my new tan on the road to Hilton Head, SC for our 10 day vacation. Didn't you wonder where I went?

We had a great time, as usual. This is the 6th year we've made the 12 hour drive. Sure, there was bitching and moaning being trapped in the car and dreaming of an exit on I-95 with a Starbucks, but the pain is worth it in the end when we see the sign that takes us to our home away from home.

David was like a boy obsessed this year. For one, he couldn't wait until he got the opportunity to go crabbing off the pier at the resort. He and hubby caught five blue crabs (catch and release), and they were in heaven. I particularly don't get the enjoyment of standing in the sun over a creek with fish smell lingering in the air, but to each is own.

Secondly, after David spent a week trying to make friends at the pool, he met a girl (insert oohs and aahs and curious eye rolling here). Is this when it starts, age 8?? Really? Goodness. Unfortunately, their courtship was short-lived.. she left the next day. However, he had a ball and I got a new friend too... her mother is the same age as myself and through conversation I found that she had her daughter via fertility treatment. We traded war stories, and it was really unexpected. It was like meeting a mirror image of me, and so glad I got the opportunity to chat with her. Thank goodness for Facebook to stay in touch. Sadly, David is left only with a picture of himself and his new friend- plotting how he might charter a boat to see his southern sweetie. I am still trying to help him understand that TN is not on the coast. lol.

We spent most of our days poolside, and if you follow me on Twitter, I posted a few pics along the way.

We were almost too lazy to spend time physically ON the beach. Too much preparing and effort. Plus, I admit it, I hate getting sandy. Hate it. However, we did take walks and collected seashells.

The thing I love about HHI is the relaxation factor. It's the only place I've vacationed where I feel truly rested.

After all the turbulence this year, I wanted that feeling more than ever. Problem is, once I shut down it's hard to boot back up. We got home on Monday and I've spent the last 48 hours walking into walls and navigating my foggy brain through the day.

The reality of being home was kind of a downer. You all know the feeling. Back to the grind, and to-do lists.

Speaking of to-do's, I am making a doctor's appointment for myself this week. Been feeling off for the last few weeks and some oddness going on with my fingernails looking weird and my hair falling out in bunches (has been for the last 6 weeks). The hair loss is worrying me. Really bad. I am asking for a thyroid panel at my regular doctor when I get in, among other things. Surely, five years of shooting up hormones hasn't affected my endocrine system, right?!? I can only guess the crap my body is going to give to me now after putting it though so much over the years.

For naught of course. Another post for another day.

So, I am back, sort of. Give me a minute and a latte and I will be ready to rock and roll.

Tan-tastic!

2011-07-06T17:46:00.003-04:00

What's the last new thing you've done?

Life in general has been sort of a rut for me in the past, but I've been doing A LOT of new things since my career change. David seems to be getting the biggest perks (in his mind anyway) because he finally has a Mom that is present in body and spirit.

We recently explored a few new parks, got a swim club membership, visited new places during THE DAY, made a few dinners together (instead of me throwing together what I can last minute).

As for me, I am doing something quite interesting and OUT of my comfort zone next week... I am getting a spray tan before we go on vacation.

I pray I won't look like this:

But as I've been expanding my horizons, I thought... why the heck not? The worst that will happen is I'll look slightly different for 7 days. And, I'll be out of state with my bad tan, so who will know me anyway? I'll just put on my Snooki-tude.

(Truth be told, my Mom was the guinea pig, and her tan looks great... shhhhhh).

did I just make a new word, Snooki-tude?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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Barbie, the Groundhog, and Me

2011-07-05T23:16:00.030-04:00

What do you prefer to do on your birthday?

My birthday is February 2nd, in the dead of winter. I always hated that phrase "dead of winter", sounds depressing, no?

Anyway, 2/2 is also another well-known day, at least to me and my family- Groundhogs Day. I used to hate that my birthday was related to a rodent, but I've warmed up to it over the years.

Needless to say, I never had any outdoor/pool/summer parties on my birthday as a kid, BUT I had some really great indoor parties.

Case in point, my 5th birthday, complete with a Barbie Doll cake and a Barbie Corvette.

One of these days S. and I are going out to Punxsautawney, PA and celebrate with the Master Groundhog, Phil. Until then, the good news is I am always guaranteed a vanilla layer cake with buttercream frosting. My favorite accompaniment to the 2nd of February.

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Chasing Youth

2011-07-04T23:06:00.000-04:00

What has surprised you most about being an adult?

I remember being 18 and wishing I was 21. In my twenties I sort of looked forward to 30 because I always felt like I would be taken more seriously at that age. Then I turned 35 and wanted to slam on the brakes before I hit 40. Each time I passed a milestone the clock seemed to wind faster and faster ahead.

By the time 40 arrived I had felt much like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz after being awakened from "the dream." Disoriented. Wondering... who am I, where am I, what did I miss, and where did the time go??

So I as I write this today, I feel like each year progressively has sped up to the point that if I don't stop and look around, I'll miss a lot. Even a whole year. Or decade.

Yes, its true. Time does pass MUCH faster as an adult.

And boy I sure hope that 50 is far in the horizon as it feels right now. I'm really not ready for that.
I haven't even planned my plastic surgery schedule yet.

Kidding.

Not really.

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