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Archive for January, 2007

yowie yow yow youch!

I'm 12 days post-IUI, which is where I was when I found out I was pregnant last cycle (in july/august). I've had a lot of odd cramping and spotting, identical to the weirdness that I had last time. As of yesterday I was vaguely considering the possibility that maybe this IUI had worked. As of today, I'm pretty sure it didn't. I think today might be CD1, or maybe that will be tomorrow, but holy cow am I all kinds of crampy right now. And while I know that I had a lot of bleeding last time and it turned out I was pregnant… I find it really hard to believe that it would happen that way twice.

Le Sigh.

Beta is Friday. I do not expect good news.

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You’ve probably noticed that I don’t go to great lengths to protect my identity. I mean, I try not to drag my husband and foster son into things too often, but as far as my own identity is concerned, my blog is pretty transparent. If anyone who knew me stumbled across my blog, it wouldn’t take long to figure out they knew me. And while I’d prefer not to know that my friends outside the computer are reading this particular blog, I can live with it. Come to think of it… maybe you hadn’t noticed. Whatever. I’m still going to write about my lack of anonymity, like it or not. It’s my blog; you don’t have to read it.

RIGHT. Anyway, this post is prompted because a blog that I recently found (and have read much of the archives of, but have only just started commenting on) just went underground. And the one thing I really hate about Typepad is that if you password protect your blog, there’s no front page. Just a prompt for password and an error page if you fail to log in properly. There’s no place to leave a comment or anything to say “hey, I really liked your blog. I’m sorry you decided you needed to go underground. Good luck and stuff.” So basically… the blog just went *poof* to me, and this frustrates me. I completely respect people’s need to keep their identity closed tight. I do. Really. And it’s certainly not MY place to say what other people should do. It’s just I’ve never really felt a need for that much secrecy.

True, I’m much more open about the specifics of my cycles and treatment here inside the computer than I am in real life. It is also true that I’d really rather my “real-life” friends not know exactly when I’m POAS or going for a wanding appointment at the RE’s. I’d rather my friends NOT know when “that time of the month” is, or when each and every disappointment happens. I’d prefer they continue thinking I’m a relatively stable human being, while you, my friends inside the computer, know the truth is that I’m a complete nutjob in need of serious therapy, but too far in denial to bother.

Still, I won’t be password-protecting my blog anytime soon. Nor will I stop using my real name, or location. And I won’t always use pseudonyms like “Dr. Amazing.” I slip and say “Dr. Levy” all the time. I’m also obviously quite transparent about which clinic I go to… it’s not a big stretch to figure out where “Shady Hell” really is. (Actually, I didn’t start calling it Shady Hell for purposes of anonymity… I did that because it’s my own little slice of hell) At any rate, the fundamental reason why I don’t go to greater lengths to protect my anonymity? Basically, I’m lazy. It’s too hard for me to remember what I’ve nicknamed all the doctors, or the clinic, or my husband or cats (oops, that was a clue! You might figure out who I am with that little tidbit thrown in!), or anything, really. I’ve never been a good liar, because I really can’t keep my stories straight unless they’re… well, you know, the truth. Beyond that, well, there are other reasons, but that’s the heart of the matter. I’m a fundamentally lazy person. And a bad liar, too.

The rest of the reason is really that I don’t know that we infertiles really do ourselves any service by staying in the closet. True, I have no interest in my friends from shul or PTA or whatever having any clue when I’m going in for Day 3 ultrasounds, because, well, yuck! But I don’t even try to hide the fact that I’m a member of that exclusive infertility club. I gave up on that long ago. It hasn’t made the stupid comments any easier or any less frequent. It hasn’t meant anyone has any great sensitivity for my plight. None of that, really. But it has meant I don’t have to pretend to be someone (and something) I’m not. And it’s meant I don’t have to be ashamed of who I am.

There’s a woman in my community who recently celebrated her 5th wedding anniversary. She and her husband have no children. In the Orthodox Jewish world, this isn’t terribly common. She and her husband tend toward the very modern side of Orthodoxy, they are both successful attorneys, and I believe both baal teshuva (meaning they didn’t grow up as Orthodox… neither did I). As a result, there’s been a bit of snickering behind their backs for a couple years. Some comments are sympathetic and pondering whether maybe they have a “problem” that they can get “taken care of” since it worked so well for my friend who has twins from IVF and is now pregnant again (whoops! she wasn’t expecting that!). Others are snarky. “I bet they’re using birth control.” “Someone should tell her that putting her career first could backfire… she’s not getting any younger, you know.” I don’t know her that well, and I certainly wasn’t going to pry. I said nothing. But we were recently at the park together and she mentioned that they were “trying the in vitro again” as though I’d always known they were doing IVF. I mean, okay, yeah, I figured they were. But you know what? Good for her for being that open about it. And we compared clinic notes and had a good laugh. This is one of the reasons that I don’t really mind that people know that we’re struggling with infertility. At least people know. And at least I’m not ashamed to compare notes with a friend in the park. I’ve definitely found more support in being out of the closet than I ever found staying in the closet.

So I won’t be going underground. I won’t be trying harder to hide my identity. Frankly, I’m not that interesting, and far more interesting infertility blogs pop up on google searches than mine, so I don’t live in fear that someone will come across mine accidentally. And if they do? Good for them. And if they get more information than they wanted? Well, they didn’t have to read it, did they?

And now, I’m going to crawl back into bed for a little while. Oh wait, I can’t. I’ve got to get J into PJs and try to convince him that bedtime isn’t JUST for wussies.

Read Full Post »

You've probably noticed that I don't go to great lengths to protect my identity. I mean, I try not to drag my husband and foster son into things too often, but as far as my own identity is concerned, my blog is pretty transparent. If anyone who knew me stumbled across my blog, it wouldn't take long to figure out they knew me. And while I'd prefer not to know that my friends outside the computer are reading this particular blog, I can live with it. Come to think of it… maybe you hadn't noticed. Whatever. I'm still going to write about my lack of anonymity, like it or not. It's my blog; you don't have to read it.

RIGHT. Anyway, this post is prompted because a blog that I recently found (and have read much of the archives of, but have only just started commenting on) just went underground. And the one thing I really hate about Typepad is that if you password protect your blog, there's no front page. Just a prompt for password and an error page if you fail to log in properly. There's no place to leave a comment or anything to say "hey, I really liked your blog. I'm sorry you decided you needed to go underground. Good luck and stuff." So basically… the blog just went *poof* to me, and this frustrates me. I completely respect people's need to keep their identity closed tight. I do. Really. And it's certainly not MY place to say what other people should do. It's just I've never really felt a need for that much secrecy.

True, I'm much more open about the specifics of my cycles and treatment here inside the computer than I am in real life. It is also true that I'd really rather my "real-life" friends not know exactly when I'm POAS or going for a wanding appointment at the RE's. I'd rather my friends NOT know when "that time of the month" is, or when each and every disappointment happens. I'd prefer they continue thinking I'm a relatively stable human being, while you, my friends inside the computer, know the truth is that I'm a complete nutjob in need of serious therapy, but too far in denial to bother.

Still, I won't be password-protecting my blog anytime soon. Nor will I stop using my real name, or location. And I won't always use pseudonyms like "Dr. Amazing." I slip and say "Dr. Levy" all the time. I'm also obviously quite transparent about which clinic I go to… it's not a big stretch to figure out where "Shady Hell" really is. (Actually, I didn't start calling it Shady Hell for purposes of anonymity… I did that because it's my own little slice of hell) At any rate, the fundamental reason why I don't go to greater lengths to protect my anonymity? Basically, I'm lazy. It's too hard for me to remember what I've nicknamed all the doctors, or the clinic, or my husband or cats (oops, that was a clue! You might figure out who I am with that little tidbit thrown in!), or anything, really. I've never been a good liar, because I really can't keep my stories straight unless they're… well, you know, the truth. Beyond that, well, there are other reasons, but that's the heart of the matter. I'm a fundamentally lazy person. And a bad liar, too.

The rest of the reason is really that I don't know that we infertiles really do ourselves any service by staying in the closet. True, I have no interest in my friends from shul or PTA or whatever having any clue when I'm going in for Day 3 ultrasounds, because, well, yuck! But I don't even try to hide the fact that I'm a member of that exclusive infertility club. I gave up on that long ago. It hasn't made the stupid comments any easier or any less frequent. It hasn't meant anyone has any great sensitivity for my plight. None of that, really. But it has meant I don't have to pretend to be someone (and something) I'm not. And it's meant I don't have to be ashamed of who I am.

There's a woman in my community who recently celebrated her 5th wedding anniversary. She and her husband have no children. In the Orthodox Jewish world, this isn't terribly common. She and her husband tend toward the very modern side of Orthodoxy, they are both successful attorneys, and I believe both baal teshuva (meaning they didn't grow up as Orthodox… neither did I). As a result, there's been a bit of snickering behind their backs for a couple years. Some comments are sympathetic and pondering whether maybe they have a "problem" that they can get "taken care of" since it worked so well for my friend who has twins from IVF and is now pregnant again (whoops! she wasn't expecting that!). Others are snarky. "I bet they're using birth control." "Someone should tell her that putting her career first could backfire… she's not getting any younger, you know." I don't know her that well, and I certainly wasn't going to pry. I said nothing. But we were recently at the park together and she mentioned that they were "trying the in vitro again" as though I'd always known they were doing IVF. I mean, okay, yeah, I figured they were. But you know what? Good for her for being that open about it. And we compared clinic notes and had a good laugh. This is one of the reasons that I don't really mind that people know that we're struggling with infertility. At least people know. And at least I'm not ashamed to compare notes with a friend in the park. I've definitely found more support in being out of the closet than I ever found staying in the closet.

So I won't be going underground. I won't be trying harder to hide my identity. Frankly, I'm not that interesting, and far more interesting infertility blogs pop up on google searches than mine, so I don't live in fear that someone will come across mine accidentally. And if they do? Good for them. And if they get more information than they wanted? Well, they didn't have to read it, did they?

And now, I'm going to crawl back into bed for a little while. Oh wait, I can't. I've got to get J into PJs and try to convince him that bedtime isn't JUST for wussies.

Read Full Post »

You've probably noticed that I don't go to great lengths to protect my identity. I mean, I try not to drag my husband and foster son into things too often, but as far as my own identity is concerned, my blog is pretty transparent. If anyone who knew me stumbled across my blog, it wouldn't take long to figure out they knew me. And while I'd prefer not to know that my friends outside the computer are reading this particular blog, I can live with it. Come to think of it… maybe you hadn't noticed. Whatever. I'm still going to write about my lack of anonymity, like it or not. It's my blog; you don't have to read it.

RIGHT. Anyway, this post is prompted because a blog that I recently found (and have read much of the archives of, but have only just started commenting on) just went underground. And the one thing I really hate about Typepad is that if you password protect your blog, there's no front page. Just a prompt for password and an error page if you fail to log in properly. There's no place to leave a comment or anything to say "hey, I really liked your blog. I'm sorry you decided you needed to go underground. Good luck and stuff." So basically… the blog just went *poof* to me, and this frustrates me. I completely respect people's need to keep their identity closed tight. I do. Really. And it's certainly not MY place to say what other people should do. It's just I've never really felt a need for that much secrecy.

True, I'm much more open about the specifics of my cycles and treatment here inside the computer than I am in real life. It is also true that I'd really rather my "real-life" friends not know exactly when I'm POAS or going for a wanding appointment at the RE's. I'd rather my friends NOT know when "that time of the month" is, or when each and every disappointment happens. I'd prefer they continue thinking I'm a relatively stable human being, while you, my friends inside the computer, know the truth is that I'm a complete nutjob in need of serious therapy, but too far in denial to bother.

Still, I won't be password-protecting my blog anytime soon. Nor will I stop using my real name, or location. And I won't always use pseudonyms like "Dr. Amazing." I slip and say "Dr. Levy" all the time. I'm also obviously quite transparent about which clinic I go to… it's not a big stretch to figure out where "Shady Hell" really is. (Actually, I didn't start calling it Shady Hell for purposes of anonymity… I did that because it's my own little slice of hell) At any rate, the fundamental reason why I don't go to greater lengths to protect my anonymity? Basically, I'm lazy. It's too hard for me to remember what I've nicknamed all the doctors, or the clinic, or my husband or cats (oops, that was a clue! You might figure out who I am with that little tidbit thrown in!), or anything, really. I've never been a good liar, because I really can't keep my stories straight unless they're… well, you know, the truth. Beyond that, well, there are other reasons, but that's the heart of the matter. I'm a fundamentally lazy person. And a bad liar, too.

The rest of the reason is really that I don't know that we infertiles really do ourselves any service by staying in the closet. True, I have no interest in my friends from shul or PTA or whatever having any clue when I'm going in for Day 3 ultrasounds, because, well, yuck! But I don't even try to hide the fact that I'm a member of that exclusive infertility club. I gave up on that long ago. It hasn't made the stupid comments any easier or any less frequent. It hasn't meant anyone has any great sensitivity for my plight. None of that, really. But it has meant I don't have to pretend to be someone (and something) I'm not. And it's meant I don't have to be ashamed of who I am.

There's a woman in my community who recently celebrated her 5th wedding anniversary. She and her husband have no children. In the Orthodox Jewish world, this isn't terribly common. She and her husband tend toward the very modern side of Orthodoxy, they are both successful attorneys, and I believe both baal teshuva (meaning they didn't grow up as Orthodox… neither did I). As a result, there's been a bit of snickering behind their backs for a couple years. Some comments are sympathetic and pondering whether maybe they have a "problem" that they can get "taken care of" since it worked so well for my friend who has twins from IVF and is now pregnant again (whoops! she wasn't expecting that!). Others are snarky. "I bet they're using birth control." "Someone should tell her that putting her career first could backfire… she's not getting any younger, you know." I don't know her that well, and I certainly wasn't going to pry. I said nothing. But we were recently at the park together and she mentioned that they were "trying the in vitro again" as though I'd always known they were doing IVF. I mean, okay, yeah, I figured they were. But you know what? Good for her for being that open about it. And we compared clinic notes and had a good laugh. This is one of the reasons that I don't really mind that people know that we're struggling with infertility. At least people know. And at least I'm not ashamed to compare notes with a friend in the park. I've definitely found more support in being out of the closet than I ever found staying in the closet.

So I won't be going underground. I won't be trying harder to hide my identity. Frankly, I'm not that interesting, and far more interesting infertility blogs pop up on google searches than mine, so I don't live in fear that someone will come across mine accidentally. And if they do? Good for them. And if they get more information than they wanted? Well, they didn't have to read it, did they?

And now, I'm going to crawl back into bed for a little while. Oh wait, I can't. I've got to get J into PJs and try to convince him that bedtime isn't JUST for wussies.

Read Full Post »

On Monday I had some horrible stomach flu. Fever, vomitting, general ickiness. I was in bed most of the day. I figured I’d follow the pattern of everyone else in the house and be fine the next day. Except on Tuesday I woke with a sore throat, fever, general ickiness, and it hurt to breathe, though I didn’t feel terribly congested.

I went to work anyway, having missed two days last week, but when my officemate/team lead walked in she took one look at me and said I should see a doctor. And then I burst into tears. Because that’s what I do when I’m stressed out and feverish. Fevers always make me emotionally labile, but stress compounds it. And, while I’m being completely honest here, prometrium sure as heck doesn’t help matters.

I went straight from work to my doctor who decided I had a severe sinus infection. A prescription for antibiotics and I was on my way. I spent most of yesterday in bed. Today I feel somewhat better, but I’m really glad my officemate told me not to even think about coming back into work until Thursday. I believe I’ll be okay to go in tomorrow, but today would have really been pushing it. I’ve spent a good deal of today in bed as well, which is fabulous.

I’m really quite done with being sick, you know. On the other hand , it sure has made the two week wait more bearable. If only I could manage to be sick for another week and a half. Feeling sorry for myself does make the time fly, you know. Only nine more days to go. If we weren’t already doomed since S had quite a fever on IUI day, then for sure my feverish self has surely doomed whatever miniscule chance we did have. No big deal, we’ll just move on to the next cycle, but I do so tire of this, don’t you?

Meanwhile, having been confined to my bed, I watched a couple movies that have been sitting around from Netflix. I watched the Emperor’s Club on Monday… or was it Sunday? Whatever. I started out hating it, and would have turned it off, except it was keeping me company while I walked on my treadmill (you wouldn’t believe a chick this fat actually does exercise, would you? Well, I do!). Actually, it turned out quite well. I despise Kevin Kline, and think the role could have been better cast, but it turned out the plot had enough meat to it to make it interesting in the end.

Today I started to watch Liam, which I remembered I’d wanted to see when it came out in theatres, but never got around to it. It’s been on my Netflix queue forever, and I’ve only just gotten around to it. Since I was feeling less feverish, I decided sinus infection or not, I had no excuse but to be on the treadmill. So I popped in Liam and got on the treadmill. I got about 15 minutes into it before I decided it wasn’t compelling enough. I’m sure it’s a fine movie, but just wasn’t something I wanted to watch just then. I instead put in Evelyn, a Pierce Brosnan, Aidan Quinn, Julianna Marguiles, etc. movie. I had never heard of it, but Netflix had recommended it. Turned out to be an incredibly compelling story (true, even) of a man in 1950’s Ireland whose wife abandoned him and he fought the Irish Supreme Court to establish his right to raise his children himself.

Another fine way to spend the two week wait. But… it will be several more days before I have any more Netflix movies, and I am hoping to be healthy enough to work tomorrow, so how on earth am I going to make the next 9 days pass quickly? I haven’t even considered peeing on any sticks yet, though don’t tempt me. I get that it would be futile, and ridiculous. I just wonder how long I’ll believe that. It was 12 days post IUI last time that I showed up even pregnant (on a beta hCG), barely, and that was the first day that a First Response test showed a positive result also. So I certainly couldn’t POAS until at least… um… Tuesday. And that would be silly and a complete waste of money, since we all know I’m not pregnant, nor am I going to be. Plus, since I’m having the beta hCG drawn a week from Friday, I should be able to wait, right? RIGHT? Stop laughing!

Read Full Post »

On Monday I had some horrible stomach flu. Fever, vomitting, general ickiness. I was in bed most of the day. I figured I'd follow the pattern of everyone else in the house and be fine the next day. Except on Tuesday I woke with a sore throat, fever, general ickiness, and it hurt to breathe, though I didn't feel terribly congested.

I went to work anyway, having missed two days last week, but when my officemate/team lead walked in she took one look at me and said I should see a doctor. And then I burst into tears. Because that's what I do when I'm stressed out and feverish. Fevers always make me emotionally labile, but stress compounds it. And, while I'm being completely honest here, prometrium sure as heck doesn't help matters.

I went straight from work to my doctor who decided I had a severe sinus infection. A prescription for antibiotics and I was on my way. I spent most of yesterday in bed. Today I feel somewhat better, but I'm really glad my officemate told me not to even think about coming back into work until Thursday. I believe I'll be okay to go in tomorrow, but today would have really been pushing it. I've spent a good deal of today in bed as well, which is fabulous.

I'm really quite done with being sick, you know. On the other hand , it sure has made the two week wait more bearable. If only I could manage to be sick for another week and a half. Feeling sorry for myself does make the time fly, you know. Only nine more days to go. If we weren't already doomed since S had quite a fever on IUI day, then for sure my feverish self has surely doomed whatever miniscule chance we did have. No big deal, we'll just move on to the next cycle, but I do so tire of this, don't you?

Meanwhile, having been confined to my bed, I watched a couple movies that have been sitting around from Netflix. I watched the Emperor's Club on Monday… or was it Sunday? Whatever. I started out hating it, and would have turned it off, except it was keeping me company while I walked on my treadmill (you wouldn't believe a chick this fat actually does exercise, would you? Well, I do!). Actually, it turned out quite well. I despise Kevin Kline, and think the role could have been better cast, but it turned out the plot had enough meat to it to make it interesting in the end.

Today I started to watch Liam, which I remembered I'd wanted to see when it came out in theatres, but never got around to it. It's been on my Netflix queue forever, and I've only just gotten around to it. Since I was feeling less feverish, I decided sinus infection or not, I had no excuse but to be on the treadmill. So I popped in Liam and got on the treadmill. I got about 15 minutes into it before I decided it wasn't compelling enough. I'm sure it's a fine movie, but just wasn't something I wanted to watch just then. I instead put in Evelyn, a Pierce Brosnan, Aidan Quinn, Julianna Marguiles, etc. movie. I had never heard of it, but Netflix had recommended it. Turned out to be an incredibly compelling story (true, even) of a man in 1950's Ireland whose wife abandoned him and he fought the Irish Supreme Court to establish his right to raise his children himself.

Another fine way to spend the two week wait. But… it will be several more days before I have any more Netflix movies, and I am hoping to be healthy enough to work tomorrow, so how on earth am I going to make the next 9 days pass quickly? I haven't even considered peeing on any sticks yet, though don't tempt me. I get that it would be futile, and ridiculous. I just wonder how long I'll believe that. It was 12 days post IUI last time that I showed up even pregnant (on a beta hCG), barely, and that was the first day that a First Response test showed a positive result also. So I certainly couldn't POAS until at least… um… Tuesday. And that would be silly and a complete waste of money, since we all know I'm not pregnant, nor am I going to be. Plus, since I'm having the beta hCG drawn a week from Friday, I should be able to wait, right? RIGHT? Stop laughing!

Read Full Post »

Limited Fertility?

A friend of mine has 3 kids: a 5 year old boy (conceived naturally), and one year old twin girls (conceived via IVF). She came over yesterday under the guise of bringing me some soup (she makes amazing soups, so I never turn her down when she offers soup) to tell me that she’s expecting her (dear heavens!) fourth child in July. Conceived naturally. Complete and total “whoops, how did that happen?” baby. She, in fact, isn’t even certain of the due date, because she wasn’t paying attention to when she ovulated and besides, she’s still nursing twins, so who woulda thunk it?

She was somewhat nervous about telling me, given that she went to the same fertility clinic that I go to and she knows how hard it all can be. I told her I really, for the most part, don’t work that way. I don’t believe there is a limited amount of fertility in this world. Just because another woman gets pregnant doesn’t mean there’s one less chance for me, right?

Wow, she said. “What a great attitude, because I know when I was going through Shady Hell, every time someone told me they were expecting, I just thought to myself: ‘die, bitch, die!'” I almost fell over laughing. She’s a very religious woman. Extremely intelligent. A doctor. Very logical. Rarely emotional. It was completely out of character, but oh-so-funny!

Read Full Post »

Limited Fertility?

A friend of mine has 3 kids: a 5 year old boy (conceived naturally), and one year old twin girls (conceived via IVF). She came over yesterday under the guise of bringing me some soup (she makes amazing soups, so I never turn her down when she offers soup) to tell me that she's expecting her (dear heavens!) fourth child in July. Conceived naturally. Complete and total "whoops, how did that happen?" baby. She, in fact, isn't even certain of the due date, because she wasn't paying attention to when she ovulated and besides, she's still nursing twins, so who woulda thunk it?

She was somewhat nervous about telling me, given that she went to the same fertility clinic that I go to and she knows how hard it all can be. I told her I really, for the most part, don't work that way. I don't believe there is a limited amount of fertility in this world. Just because another woman gets pregnant doesn't mean there's one less chance for me, right?

Wow, she said. "What a great attitude, because I know when I was going through Shady Hell, every time someone told me they were expecting, I just thought to myself: 'die, bitch, die!'" I almost fell over laughing. She's a very religious woman. Extremely intelligent. A doctor. Very logical. Rarely emotional. It was completely out of character, but oh-so-funny!

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Lab Corp how I Loathe Thee

I spent half of today trying to find out why my doctor hadn’t received the results of my thrombophilia panel yet. Eventually I got word from Lab Corp that yes, the tests had been run, and gosh… the results are in the system, they can’t figure out why my doctor can’t access them, and no they can’t tell me the results over the phone, but they’ll put them in the mail to me. I called my nurse back and she checked and *miraculously* the results are in the system. Amazing!

Right, so she wants Dr. Amazing to take a look at the results, because two came back elevated JUST THE TEENSIEST BIT. But so teensey that it probably doesn’t matter, but it’s his call to make. Sort of like me and varicella… I’m JUST SHY of immune levels… now I’m JUST SHY of not having a thrombophilia. Yeah. Um… Neither of those really help me. At any rate, it doesn’t matter, since all they’ll do is put me on baby aspirin if it turns out to be an issue. And well… actually if it’s not an issue, I might ask if I can take the baby aspirin anyway, because, you know? It might actually help my migraines (I took baby aspirin every day until I started trying to get pregnant four years ago… since I’ve got a heart issue that mandates that I should take an anticoagulant or aspirin, and since the heart problem can actually lead to migraines… I did find that being on the aspirin at least reduced the severity, if not the frequency of my migraines).

Oh, and I did POAS and it was faintly positive. Even though, you know, it means nothing.

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It’s Official

I woke up in the middle of the night throwing up. Hey, maybe this is a pregnancy symptom…. ??

JUST KIDDING!

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