sunk like that. after a month i’m now hyper/hypo thyroidic, with my TSH level having gone UP to 2.5 from 2.1 after a month of increased compounded medications and my thyroid antibodies also increased by 50%. my body is continuing to attack itself from the inside out.
oh and did i mention, still no period even with acupuncture, parsley tea, and high amounts of vitamin c? two weeks late…something that in a younger woman might mean excitement. this exact same time last year, after cycle one failed, my period took around 50 days to come, and since then i’ve been cycling, so i have no idea where my body really is. is it telling me to give up? sometimes i think it is, that it’s telling me no matter how i try, my life does not have purpose, that no matter how i try, my life will never get to go in the way it does for others, that it’s my fault, that this is the load i must carry until the day i die. and i sink further.
i sit here typing and look up and to my left is the bookshelf my husband made when we first found out we were pregnant, with the books like Good Dog Carl and This is Australia and Bebe Day by Day and Birthing from Within. On the second shelf are a combination of stuffed animals, from his to my childhood and new ones for our little one. Below on the floor, between the wall and the credenza, is a changing table frame we cut, sanded and painted ourselves and hanging next to is it is a onesie I had made to surprise my husband that says “Lil Levens” and has an excerpt of a Raymond Carver poem on the back, his favorite writer. Inside the credenza is a small pile of my baby clothes, things that were dumped by my mother on my front porch in an old box with no note years ago. On the right are a collection of animated children’s postcards in French we picked up at a bookshop in Paris and the Snugglepot and Cuddlepie alphabet frieze up on the wall to represent my husband’s childhood in Australia. Behind me is my vision board created in fall of 2014, with a woman’s large pregnant belly at the center and various cut out pictures of children and family and home and nature and love around her that I combined to represent me and my dreams.
Thanksgiving was fine – I like the cooking up of various treats and savory rich lovely items. But as I sat down to eat with my husband, I just felt sick about eating any of it…and have felt sick for the 24 hours following. Even as we laid snuggling on the sofa talking about the National Dog Show contenders (I was rooting for the Chesapeake Bay Retriever), I felt hollow. Nothing to do with him, just the situation that life has put us in, the emptiness in my gut as another holiday passes and another approaches, reminding us that it is…just us.
And I know I’ve written about optimism and hope and tried intellectually to be so on top of shit, but I’m not. My god I’m not even close. And I don’t even want to try sometimes. My ND wants me to come for an abdominal massage to see if we can get my uterus doing it’s job and I actually declined, saying I wanted to see if it will come naturally. I’m thinking the cure is going to be to get back on the pill for a month, but after all this time (I know some of you will get this) it’s like, fuck, another month to wait to start the ERA cycle.
I saved this as a draft as I returned to the post I am writing you completely immobile, lying on my back awaiting an ambulance as last night I suffered a back strain so severe that I can no longer move without excruciating pain – and this is with 10mg valium, 1000 of Tylenol, and 800 mg Ibuprofen as suggested by the doctor we called at urgent care (along with ice and heat).
Fuck this week.