A while ago, I had a bad experience with a new gynecologist. She was rude about my weight (not in a helpful way), practically threatened that I get back on BC, and had no interest in discussing how to resolve my apparent anovulation until we were "officially" trying to conceive. I never went back.
Even my general practitioner was more helpful. He ordered and ultrasound and sent me for minimal blood work, which was all "unremarkable". Of course, I still needed an OB/GYN specifically to help me more. Even though Rod and I aren't actively "trying," we're not "trying not to" and have not been preventing pregnancy for the last 2 years, with no pregnancies resulting.
Then, my mom went to her GYN who, remembering I'd gotten married two years ago, asked if my mom was expecting any grandbabies. My mom told her no and that she was concerned we'd have trouble conceiving because I don't ever have periods, and have always been irregular in the past. Her GYN said, "Oh, we can help her with that, no problem!" So, she was able to get me in!
I had my first appointment today, and already I feel hopeful. The doctor was much more helpful, is sending me for more specific blood work (prolactin, HCG, glucose, testosterone, a bunch of other things I don't remember), requesting previous records and even started discussing options with me for the future, describing the steps we should take in my specific situation.
I'm so thrilled!
I know we're still not "officially" trying yet, but doesn't it make good sense to know what's going on and have it resolved sooner than later so that we don't have to wait longer when we're actively pursuing a pregnancy? We would be more than happy to get pregnant now, but we're not going to put all our energy into trying hard until we're close to finishing school, several months from now.
Anyway, just wanted to give a little background because I am sure this will be a topic I will updating about in the near future. Wish us luck!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Maybe I should write more often
I received a letter today that read:
"Dear Anne Constance, It is my pleasure to tell you that your entry, Tradition and Family, has been awarded 14th place in Inspirational Writing category of the 79th Annual Writer's Digest Writing Competition. You will receive your Certificate of Achievement which honors your accomplishment in the near future. Finishing among the top 100 entries is an accomplishment you can be proud of. Your success in the face of such formidable competition speaks highly of your writing talent, and should be a source of great pride as you continue in your writing career. All 1,001 winners will be listed at www.writersdigest.com after the December issue is published."
I am overly excited! Here's the story for those who are interested (I can't seem to fix the formatting to make paragraphs...oh well):
"Dear Anne Constance, It is my pleasure to tell you that your entry, Tradition and Family, has been awarded 14th place in Inspirational Writing category of the 79th Annual Writer's Digest Writing Competition. You will receive your Certificate of Achievement which honors your accomplishment in the near future. Finishing among the top 100 entries is an accomplishment you can be proud of. Your success in the face of such formidable competition speaks highly of your writing talent, and should be a source of great pride as you continue in your writing career. All 1,001 winners will be listed at www.writersdigest.com after the December issue is published."
I am overly excited! Here's the story for those who are interested (I can't seem to fix the formatting to make paragraphs...oh well):
Tradition and Family
You should know that I don't often find myself at a loss for words.
Until recently, I considered myself full of answers and endless insight; an open book just waiting to be picked up and read. Little did I know, I still had plenty to learn before understanding the moral of my own story.
This year was the first year I spent Thanksgiving in a restaurant and not in my Aunt Linda's dining room. My cousin, Pete, had come down with a rotten case of influenza and my parents had been offered a deal on airplane tickets to Egypt that nothing -- not even breaking a twenty-five year tradition -- could stop them from accepting.
In the end, Aunt Linda canceled dinner.
I slumped down onto a bar stool at Rita's Tavern that holiday evening and, choking down dry stuffing and canned cranberry jelly, got to discussing tradition with some of the other folks.
Joel came to Rita's every year to avoid his roommate's heavy drinking. Luiz was from Brazil and didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, and Jackie didn't understand why the holiday was such a big deal in the first place.
The three of them could see that I was in a funk. Explaining that I normally enjoyed Thanksgiving at a family gathering led to a question by Luiz that completely threw me off guard:
"So, you come from a traditional family, then?"
Let's start with 'come from.' Maybe others are able to say with confidence that they 'come from' their mother's womb, a province in Italy, or God's creation, for example. I, myself, sat struggling with how I 'came from' anything or anyone in particular. Should I focus on the physical aspects of my coming into being, or describe the wishes and hopes in my parents' hearts that helped place me into their lives?
What about the word 'traditional?' What is a 'traditional family', anyhow? If I had to guess, I would assume that it means a mom, dad and children; the parents were married before they got pregnant, and both children shared their DNA.
If that was the case, could I just answer that no, I didn't 'come from' a 'traditional family?' Would I have to explain how I didn't 'come from' a 'traditional family'?
Would I have to describe all three of them: Gina, the woman who created me in her body; and Karen and Deirdre, the two women who created me in their hearts? If I left out any one of them, my story wouldn't be complete.
I supposed I could start by describing how Gina shared my blood but ironically, looks nothing like me. She has olive skin; large brown eyes and lots of thick, dark brown -- almost black -- hair. She had an Italian mother whose parents came from Sicily just before the turn of the century. Her father was a mixture of many European heritages including English, Scottish, Welsh and Irish.
At the same time, everyone says I look just like Karen and Deirdre, who have fair complexions and light hair and eyes. The difference is in our figures. Karen and Deirdre are both slim and athletic; I have always been hefty and sluggish.
When Gina was twenty-five years old, she and her boyfriend of eight years, Sam, discovered she was pregnant. Gina was an independent, career-minded woman who had no intention of every marrying Sam. She decided to put the baby up for adoption through a local adoption agency.
This devastated my biological father, who ultimately moved to Louisiana in an attempt to escape the emotional turmoil.
Meanwhile, only thirty minutes away, two women had been in love for ten years and were desperately wishing to start a family. They were unable to get married let alone conceive children, so their options were scarce. They had been working with a local adoption agency for four years with no luck.
No expectant mother wanted to place her child with two women; an non-traditional couple.
That is, no expectant mother until Gina. Karen and Deirdre were just who she was looking for to raise me, and I have to say that was the best choice she ever made.
Scanning the bright, eager, waiting faces around the table, I could tell they were all curious as to the intricate processes occurring in my mind at that moment. I decided I should answer.
"Traditional family? Nah," I finally eased out in response. "Loving family that cherishes each other and their traditions? Yes."
Obviously, this is only based on a true story. A lot of the facts and descriptions were altered for various reasons.
I think I should start writing more. I decided, when I won a place in a writingroom.com competition and got my "Skipping Stone" story published in one of their anthologies, that I would then try for a Writer's Digest competition, and then try to get something small published.
So, maybe I should try for an article in a newspaper or magazine now. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated!
Until recently, I considered myself full of answers and endless insight; an open book just waiting to be picked up and read. Little did I know, I still had plenty to learn before understanding the moral of my own story.
This year was the first year I spent Thanksgiving in a restaurant and not in my Aunt Linda's dining room. My cousin, Pete, had come down with a rotten case of influenza and my parents had been offered a deal on airplane tickets to Egypt that nothing -- not even breaking a twenty-five year tradition -- could stop them from accepting.
In the end, Aunt Linda canceled dinner.
I slumped down onto a bar stool at Rita's Tavern that holiday evening and, choking down dry stuffing and canned cranberry jelly, got to discussing tradition with some of the other folks.
Joel came to Rita's every year to avoid his roommate's heavy drinking. Luiz was from Brazil and didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, and Jackie didn't understand why the holiday was such a big deal in the first place.
The three of them could see that I was in a funk. Explaining that I normally enjoyed Thanksgiving at a family gathering led to a question by Luiz that completely threw me off guard:
"So, you come from a traditional family, then?"
Let's start with 'come from.' Maybe others are able to say with confidence that they 'come from' their mother's womb, a province in Italy, or God's creation, for example. I, myself, sat struggling with how I 'came from' anything or anyone in particular. Should I focus on the physical aspects of my coming into being, or describe the wishes and hopes in my parents' hearts that helped place me into their lives?
What about the word 'traditional?' What is a 'traditional family', anyhow? If I had to guess, I would assume that it means a mom, dad and children; the parents were married before they got pregnant, and both children shared their DNA.
If that was the case, could I just answer that no, I didn't 'come from' a 'traditional family?' Would I have to explain how I didn't 'come from' a 'traditional family'?
Would I have to describe all three of them: Gina, the woman who created me in her body; and Karen and Deirdre, the two women who created me in their hearts? If I left out any one of them, my story wouldn't be complete.
I supposed I could start by describing how Gina shared my blood but ironically, looks nothing like me. She has olive skin; large brown eyes and lots of thick, dark brown -- almost black -- hair. She had an Italian mother whose parents came from Sicily just before the turn of the century. Her father was a mixture of many European heritages including English, Scottish, Welsh and Irish.
At the same time, everyone says I look just like Karen and Deirdre, who have fair complexions and light hair and eyes. The difference is in our figures. Karen and Deirdre are both slim and athletic; I have always been hefty and sluggish.
When Gina was twenty-five years old, she and her boyfriend of eight years, Sam, discovered she was pregnant. Gina was an independent, career-minded woman who had no intention of every marrying Sam. She decided to put the baby up for adoption through a local adoption agency.
This devastated my biological father, who ultimately moved to Louisiana in an attempt to escape the emotional turmoil.
Meanwhile, only thirty minutes away, two women had been in love for ten years and were desperately wishing to start a family. They were unable to get married let alone conceive children, so their options were scarce. They had been working with a local adoption agency for four years with no luck.
No expectant mother wanted to place her child with two women; an non-traditional couple.
That is, no expectant mother until Gina. Karen and Deirdre were just who she was looking for to raise me, and I have to say that was the best choice she ever made.
Scanning the bright, eager, waiting faces around the table, I could tell they were all curious as to the intricate processes occurring in my mind at that moment. I decided I should answer.
"Traditional family? Nah," I finally eased out in response. "Loving family that cherishes each other and their traditions? Yes."
Obviously, this is only based on a true story. A lot of the facts and descriptions were altered for various reasons.
I think I should start writing more. I decided, when I won a place in a writingroom.com competition and got my "Skipping Stone" story published in one of their anthologies, that I would then try for a Writer's Digest competition, and then try to get something small published.
So, maybe I should try for an article in a newspaper or magazine now. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Success as a substitute parent
From: Daniel
ik ur driving right now but i want to thank u, whenever im having trouble being hheard or understood u always seem to be the only one i can turn to. love.
Oct 6, 5:20 pm
ik ur driving right now but i want to thank u, whenever im having trouble being hheard or understood u always seem to be the only one i can turn to. love.
Oct 6, 5:20 pm
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