…is about to cover a lot more than just food. Our life, my husband and my boy. Facebook is starting to get to me. There seems to be a constant stream of…well, crap. I want to know how my friends and family are doing. I don’t mind seeing a funny post once in awhile, but now there are hundreds of those PLUS what Facebook thinks I might be interested in. My brain hurts. I feel like (and most likely am) a lab rat.
A lot’s been going on. I haven’t bothered to get the official diagnosis (I’m only one step away anyway), but am most likely bipolar. I’m officially diagnosed with a major depressive disorder. All you need to add to that are the highs that no one ever goes to the doctor for because they feel great. Seriously, why would anyone go when they feel good. I don’t hallucinate and I don’t think I will solve world hunger, but when I get excited about something – it’s REALLY excited. Like, I go from feeling pretty bland most of the time to super excited. Yea, that’s not normal. Besides, the next day I usually end up feeling low and like the world sucks and I want to sleep all day or stare at the wall. So yea, I’m not giving my doctors any more money. I recognize what is going on. Now people need to just not be offended the days when I avoid them. I promise its for their own good as much as its for mine!
Aside from that, there is the never ending battle of unexplained secondary infertility. I want to break free from it. I want to let it all go. I start to think that maybe I’m comfortable with the idea of letting go and being done, but then there are about a million posts on that evil Facebook. On average for the last 5 years, at least 5 of my friends at a time are pregnant. I usually discover all their announcements the same night. I spend the next 9 months listening to complaints about morning sickness and body pains and joyful shower announcements, gender, what clothes to buy, what new equipment is needed if its not the first kid, and “oh my gosh we need a bigger car to fit our huge family that is driving me nuts”. Then I hear all the birth stories. A month or two passes and the next round of at least 5 friend make their announcements.
This has happened continually-I kid you not (har har har).
So yes, I’d like to break free from that, but according to my naturopath, I’m a red which seems to mean I have to solve things. Well, I’d agree with that.
Reproductive endocrinology has yielded absolutely zilch. I thought that was the end of the road. But I’m a physical mess so I was looking things up about allergies and what not and some how stumbled across Reproductive IMMUNOLOGY. What’s that?! Never heard of it. I start to research it and it turns out I’m a pretty darn good candidate. Lots of women with unexplained infertility have immune problems. Fix those and BAM! they’re pregnant.
So of course now that I’ve stumbled across a new possibility, I won’t be able to let it go til it is fully explored. The blood work’s already been ordered.
Despite all that, have I mentioned I have a dream of a child? He is my miracle boy. Typical story – 3 months without even trying. He has been frustrating on every level, but I have never felt so much joy and love. HE is the reason I want another so badly. He is growing up so quickly and yet sooooo slowly. We’ve reached a new phase where I can actually trust him to get chores done. We don’t fight about it anymore, he just helps. It’s the most amazing thing. Ok, maybe a little fighting – but seriously it feels like nothing compared to his very noisy past.
I’ve written enough for the day. He wants to watch the final Harry Potter and I think I’ll sit and veg and eat a poorly constructed dinner with him.
We’ve had an eventful summer and we’re not done yet. This past weekend was the Utah Spartan Beast and I will fill a post with it!