Sunday, March 14, 2010

Unexpected Position

On Friday night, buoyed by your comments of test, test, test!, I thought I was firmly decided and fully expected to visit the local vampires for a blood draw the next afternoon. When I mentioned as much to Jeff, he thought about it for a minute, asked a couple of rather astute questions, and said he didn't think I should. That it wouldn't really change anything we're doing. And he's pretty much right.

So we're going to give it another cycle or two and then talk through the pros and cons again. As Kath suggested, I might have a better handle on things then; at any rate, I hope so.

In completely unrelated news, Olivia went to her first real birthday party yesterday. The girls in attendance were mostly big kids of six or seven and generally ignored her. Then, this one girl, whom we had never met before, saw that Olivia was sad and proceeded to take her by the hand, dress her up in princess finery and spend the better part of two hours playing solely with her. This little girl's brother, aged three and a half, shared all of his Cars cars with Josh and didn't complain even when Josh grabbed them all up--Chick, The King, Lighning, the whole lot--and made a break for it. What I want now is to figure out how to raise kids just like that, instead of the jealous and competitive lot I've got.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Do I want to know?

Today is CD1 and the lab slip is in front of me: FSH, estradiol. If I'm going to do it, tomorrow is the day, and I am torn. I'm not sure I want to know the results: What, exactly, will I gain from knowing? What would the upside be?

There is a part of me--a fairly large part--that likes answers. Knowledge is, if not always power, almost always interesting. I have a nearly prurient curiosity about my own health, demanding and poring over every number on every lab result, obsessively comparing my perfectly fine cholesterol results with those perfectly fine results from ten years ago, despite the obvious uselessness of the exercise. And yet...and yet...that powerful curiosity is seriously tempered this time by fear.

I am afraid of the implications of high FSH. Not that it always spells THE END--I've been around long enough to hear tell of high-FSH women who have had successful pregnancies--but it would certainly diminish my hopefulness. What's left of it. And without that hopefulness, what would happen to my mood and the little shards of libido I still cling to? Would I be determined to keep trying, despite the odds? Would I have the werewithal to give in gracefully? Would I sink into a self-indulgent funk? I'm a little surprised to find that I don't know myself well enough to even guess at an answer.

There's also the question of what it would mean if the numbers were decent. Normal FSH does not imply that I would be able to get pregnant, just that, by this one very limited measure, it might be possible. Would knowing that my FSH is normal make me more hopeful, happier? Would it change my behavior in any way that might improve my odds of conception? The only thing I can imagine myself doing differently from today is to try Clomid or Femara, which I have so far avoided, but their odds might not be good enough to tempt.

So, I wonder: What would you do? Would fear or knowledge win the day?

Monday, March 01, 2010

My awesome blossom

Olivia, to me, after being denied her seventh tangerine of the evening:

"Mom, you're a...you're...you...oh, you red stinking gooey onion Mom!"