I Really Don’t Want to be a Whiny B*$ch, But…

Things are just not looking up.

I’m not just suffering from PCOS.  I’m actually going into pre-menopause.

When I turned 25, I bitched nonstop about being “almost 30”.  Seriously.  I thought I was “old”.  And “old” meant I wasn’t married and I was going to die alone with 89 cats.

I didn’t realize that what actually was going to happen was that I was going to have severe ovarian failure.

I’m on some medicine (via my endrocrinologist) that causes birth defects and have to stay on it for 6 months.  I then have to test for 3 months to make sure that I am no longer at risk of passing it on to my children.  But, see, with the pre-menopause (which obviously doesn’t mean it will be over that quickly, it just complicates things) and the lack of ovulation, my gyno wants me to act faster than 6 months if I want a better chance of a natural pregnancy.  The two docs are like the jets and the sharks, but my ovaries are the streets in dispute.

We can’t afford to get pregnant right now.  We can’t afford goldfish.  Nonetheless, I am so so smashed emotionally.  I actually was driving around aimlessly on Monday, looking for an insane asylum (I’m serious) but I couldn’t figure out what it would look like.  Luckily, there was a Nar-Anon mtg I could go to so I just went there.  Sometimes, being the spouse of a recovering druggie has it’s perks.  4 or so days a weeks, I get to go to mtgs where people seriously don’t judge me and will listen to me cry.  It’s nice.

I know that things happen for a reason.  I do.  But in the last calendar year, both D and I have lost our jobs, my mom nearly died, D went to rehab, I was diagnosed with a bevy of medical issues…oh, and we got married.  So I am a little overwhelmed.  I am looking at the medically imposed time (medicine that causes birth defects, remember) as a time to not stress about having kids but rather to work on really getting healthy, mentally and physically.  And to finally organize my house.  That way, no matter how we come by children, I will be a little more ready.

As we say at Nar-Anon, thanks for letting me share.

Infertility Makes Others Stupid and Mean

Someone, please tell me why is it that when you are infertile, EVERYONE else becomes a doctor?

If I could make a list of the stupid, thoughtless things that people have said in the last few months, it would take me a year.

I also enjoy hearing stories of people who already have kids (without any infertility meds), have been trying for a month, and “feel my pain”.  As in, they got their period after breast feeding for 2 years and it is just so unfair.

I am not saying that other people are not welcome to their own pain.  I am just saying, if you are holding a baby and telling me that you are suffering after one month of trying to conceive, you are probably making me feel stabby.  Fair or not.

Next post: why it is not okay to say things like, “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?”

I’m Doing the Best WIth What I’ve Got

This hasn’t been as hard as I thought. I mean, yes, I’ve been alone for awhile. Yes, my hubby is a drug addict. Yes, the metformin that they put me on for the PCOD causes MALE PATTERN BALDNESS. But I am kicking butt.

I didn’t lose 20 lbs. But I’ve really gotten to the point of some of my issues. And I got a sponsor! :) That’s all I can ask for.

I’m just gonna keep on keepin’ on, and hope that D does the same!

Please Don’t Judge Me That I’m Not So Positive Right Now!

2010 was going to be a good year.

In the past, I have been accused of being judgemental and negative.  I have realllllly been working on it.  (Of course, I think that some of the people who accused me of that didn’t like what reality I was bringing to certain situations…for instance, if your husband beats you, leaving him isn’t a bad idea…and don’t say I’m negative to suggest it.)  But that is neither here nor there.  I saw that I could be judgy, so I have worked on it.

I was excited for 2010.  Within the first 10 days, I was flown off to my mom’s to take care of her.  (Ok, to be expected…she has lupus).  Although she is out of the hospital, her illness is progressing.  I think that part of the problem is that she didn’t bounce back as fast as she thought she would.  Turning 60 has definitely slowed down her healing process, but I also think that she is sick and tired of being sick and tired.  My mind has been weighed down by guilt, feeling like crap that I am not with her to help.  But I know that in a young marriage, you need to be around…Especially if…

You husband has a drug addiction.  I am proud of him for finally doing what he needs to do, but now that he is gone, I so need this time to take care of me.  I need the time to put the emphasis on healing my mind and body.  Since we got together four years ago, I have gained 70 pounds.  I thought that it was strictly because of “love weight” and due to my recently diagnosed hypo-thyroidism.  Until yesterday…

When I was told that I have poly-ovarian cystic syndrome.  In addition to not allowing me to ovulate regularly, this causes me to gain weight and hold on to it.  I have started some new meds (already!) and will be working on fertility issues, in addition to losing weight (which just might be possible now, with the drugs) so that once D. is better, we can have kids.

I can’t tell if I am an idiot to keep faith, or if Gd is just pushing me.  I have never lost faith before, but I am feeling like crap.  The strangest thing, however, is that I still feel no relief…maybe this will give me some relief from the weight gain, cramps and constant (seriously) PMS I suffer from, but I don’t have the same optimism that I would of a few months ago.  And right now, I can’t even turn to D or my mom for comforting.  I don’t want to be the girl that always has major issues in their life…you know, the girl at work (if I hadn’t been laid off…oy!) who is always ten minutes late and comes in with the story of how her husband is a drunk/her kids have the kroop/she got a flat tire/her lights got turned off/etc.  So excuse me if I vent of the blog for a minute or two, because if I don’t, I am afraid of becoming a person I don’t like.

*please forgive the ongoing sentences and random thought process behind this post…I just need to get it out!

I’m too tired to pretend like I’m not affected by this, so instead I’m faking a sick dog. Is that bad?

D. is a pretty private person.  He hasn’t really told anyone about what’s going on.  Which, since we have so few friends to begin with, makes me being home alone pretty difficult.  One couple that we are really close to knows the situation, and are fabulous.  But between them, the nutso MIL, my other BFF, and my mom, my phone is ringing off the hook.  Which is TOTALLY getting in the way of me just moping a teeny bit and sitting at home with the dog while working on myself and searching the house for Oxycotin to throw out.

I had a few crying spells, but today hasn’t been that bad.  I walked like 4 miles (I think that’s 6 or so kilometers, Eden :)) and I took the dog out for a run (separately.  I wasn’t kidding, I am going to lose weight this month).  I talked to Danny a bit (his detox starts on Monday, and until then he is with his folks…and going through weird mood swings from the taper).

After spending 200 bucks at the grocery store (and I am not going to lie, 40 or so bucks was on the dog for treats and 20 or so was chocolate covered pretzels) I was ready to chill by myself.  The couple here called and were so intent on getting me out of the house.  I lied and said that my dog was sick.  People are much nicer to sick dogs than they are to tired wives whose hubbies are detoxing.

It’s All Fun and Games Until Someone Goes To Rehab.

So my father-in-law is here, helping D. pack up for detox.  I can’t tell you how much animosity I am filled with.   As soon as D. leaves, I am starting Rachel Rehab.

This was funny.  My FIL said to me, “I have been speaking to a counselor.  Do you know that my wife and I have been enabling D?  Do you know what that means?”  I had to just nod, because if I opened my mouth it would of been ugly.

The next 30 days, I am going to workout, eat right, clean the house, tan, get my nails did, read, sleep, talk when I want, not talk when I want, and just do what I need.

I owe it to myself because if not, I will be the next one in rehab.

My name is Rachel…and…

I’ve been hiding.

The truth is, things are going so great here.

D. has a drug problem.

Ohmygddoesitfeelsogoodtowritethatdown.

He has had scoliosis for years, and coupled with enabling parents, poor medical insurance, and a major case of denial, he is now also a big opiad addict.

I know what you are thinking.  Why did you marry him?  I really don’t want to get into it all right now, mostly because I have been beating myself up for days.  Weeks.  Months.

The shit hit the fan on Passover, when we missed our first night’s Seder because he was getting more pills.

I brought up rehab, and he seemed okay with it.  Of course, he also didn’t think I was serious.

We went and visited yesterday, and I made a boundry that said he had to go by Friday am, and he had to detox here at the rehab.  I made his parents aware.  They agreed.  They cut his credit cards, weren’t going to give him a place to stay, etc etc.

His father is on the way here right now to take him.  To the other detox place, that I do not support.  No one cares what I say, and even though 1) I am the wife and 2) I am funding rehab, my boundaries are totally null and void in everyone’s eyes.

When they leave tomorrow, I am changing the locks and the garage door code.

If and when D shows up at rehab, I will be supportive.

Until then, I am in a really shitty place.  (And yes, my mom is still sick.  And I turned 30 last week.  I try so hard to be positive, but it’s like Gd is challenging me.  I am going to keep fighting.  I don’t want to let this beat me.)

I need a hug.