I have three basic goals that I would like to complete this year. They seem New Years Resolution-ish, but they’re not really. Especially since it’s March and I’m just now really asserting them.
1. To not gain any weight. I would like to stay within the confines of the 155-165 lb range, which is where I’m currently hovering. Within this I can wear everything I currently own, and I don’t think I look different from 155 to 165, although obviously 155 would be my preference.
2. To read 75 books by the end of the year. I’m currently on book 16. This one is somewhat lofty, but achievable. I on average read 2-3 books a week, but occasionally I have a week where I read only one or even none, just depending on my mood. I need to have read book 25 by the end of April to be on track.
3. To get pregnant. End of story.
Along these lines, I’m eating better and working out again, but I’m still eating more than I would say is reasonable. Last night for instance. I got home, changed clothes, went to the gym, kicked butt on some elliptical, came home, ate left over spaghetti, and settled in for some television. Then, an hour later, I was ravenously hungry again, so I decided that based on my options a small bowl of raisin bran was the right choice. Then an hour later, still pretty damn hungry, so a slice of left over pizza. My lunch and breakfast were both pretty light, so I don’t think I’m going to die or anything, but damnit-why am I so hungry? A few weeks ago I was eating a lot from what I figured were those steroids I was on for being sick, but now I have no idea. Could the letrozole be doing it? It’s so much funner to blame it on drugs than to admit that I’m just overeating, but I am actually genuinely hungry a lot more than I used to be and I don’t know why. At the very least I’m not eating candy every few hours like I was last month, but man. I need this to stop.
This week I’ve already finished two books and am on my third. The second one I read was “Labor Day” by Joyce Maynard. It’s the one they’ve made into a movie. In the book (spoiler alert-stop reading here if you don’t want to know stuff) the mother character reveals that she desperately tried to have more kids after her first child. When she got pregnant when her son was just a few months old her husband made her terminate it. After that none of her pregnancies would stick, except for the last one where the baby died in delivery by being strangled by the umbilical cord. So that was upsetting to read. The woman basically becomes a recluse because she can’t stand going into the world full of pregnant women and children, which was very striking. It’s how I feel so often, just for being infertile.
But so I finished that book and moved onto “This is Where I Leave You” by Jonathan Tropper. It’s so funny- a little raunchy, but funny. I’m thoroughly enjoying it, but (spoiler alert) one of the characters loses her baby at 8 months because it strangles itself on it’s own umbilical cord. My point is this, I finished “Labor Day” yesterday and immediately moved into “This Is Where I Leave You”, so twice within 24 hours I have read about a baby dying by this horrible way that I had never even thought about before. I think of all the terrible ways I could lose a baby if we ever get pregnant-but that one never came into the picture. Is it really so common that two books I just happen to be reading whose main focus is not infertility deal with it? It’s horrifying. Is this yet another thing to be worried about?
I just can’t imagine having one more thing to worry about. My head is too full.
Today is “CD 4”, day 3 of Letrozole tonight. My ovaries have definitely been twinging today, but they’ve twinged on and off for the last few months, so until it’s a consistent twinge I won’t believe anything is happening. Librarian is my name and skepticism is my game. It is a dreary day outside which matches my general feelings inside. 3.5 work hours left today and a long 8 in front of me tomorrow.
I. Need. Sunday.