Waiting for AF

 No one tells you that the whole process of  TTC is all about AF.  Either waiting for her to start, or hoping she’ll stay away, no matter where you are in your cycle, it's all focused on AF.  I’ve spent the past two weeks hoping she’d hurry up and get here, because the sooner she came, the sooner my next period would start.  And my first period that starts 6 weeks (or later) after my D&C is the one that I can start TTC again. 

But here it is, 5 weeks since my D&C, and no AF.  Which means if AF holds off another 6 days, I can start as early as next week!  And that has me really excited (and a little nervous).  I’m trying to keep that excitement a low simmer right now, because AF really can come any day, but I’m really hoping I’ll luck out this time. 

I’ve spent the past day and a half convinced that AF was on her way, due to some lower abdominal achiness.  Until I realized that I ache all over everywhere, thanks to Monday morning’s super hard workout.  So maybe AF isn’t about to appear, maybe all I’m feeling is the result of a good workout.  But if she coming this week, she needs to hurry up and get here.  Because starting on Friday or Saturday would be just mean. 

It’s madness, trying to analyze everything my body is feeling; it’s almost as bad as the 2ww.  I’ve had to use a lot of restraint to not talk about this with my coworkers today, I know they really don’t want to hear about my periods.  But luckily I have the blogging world and discussion boards where I can share all – I really don’t know how choice moms that aren’t part of the online community do it when they’re TTC. 

A Bookshop at the Beach

When I was pregnant, I always had a happy feeling in the back of my mind.  I didn’t think about being pregnant nonstop, but I was always aware of it, which made it hard to go through the day without smiling at inopportune times.  Since my miscarriage, I’ve had the exact opposite:  a constant heavy, dragging feeling in the back of my mind and in the pit of my stomach.  I notice it when I first wake up in the morning; sometimes it takes me a minute to figure out why I feel that way, but I haven’t woken up without that heavy feeling in 5 weeks.  It lasts all day, so at times I’m hardly aware of it, but random things, like a line in a book or a pregnant woman walking by, make me remember why I feel so sad. 

I know I should consider myself lucky. I can still laugh with my friends, while others who have gone through a pregnancy loss can’t smile or laugh for months, the sadness mixed with rapidly changing hormones just more than their bodies can handle.  Right now, though, facing a week back at work, I don’t feel lucky.  The thought of a day full of patients right now makes that sinking feeling in my heart so loud, I can barely hear anything else.  I think I finally understand what makes someone pick up and leave everything she’s ever known, to start all over again when something tragic happens.  It feels as though if I did leave and start a new life somewhere else that I would feel better, that all my sadness would be left behind.  I know that’s not true, of course, but I can’t help fantasizing just a little bit. 

If I could, right now, leave my job that I usually love but currently dread, and start life somewhere else, I’d want it to be somewhere like Sundog Books in Seaside, Florida.  It’s a block from the beach, in the middle of lots of cute little shops and vacation homes.  Inside are tables piled high and shelves that stretch nearly to the ceiling overflowing with books.  They’re cleverly arranged in categories that go above and beyond the usual fiction, romance and sci-fi of your average bookstore, which encourages browsing as you try to find your favorite author.  Then there are all the books that are stacked on the shelves, in front of the neatly and alphabetically shelved books.  These stacks encourage browsing, inviting you to pick up a few and read the back, and frequently the books don’t make it back to the shelf, because they look way too good to ignore.  When you pause to point out a particularly favorite book of yours to your friends, one of the staff invariably joins in on the conversation, with interesting facts about the author, or a suggestion of another book you’re sure to enjoy. 

I spent 30 minutes in Sundog Books yesterday and spent almost $100 - despite the fact that I own a Kindle and rarely buy books in print anymore - and I could have easily spent another hour or two and a couple more hundred dollars if I’d had the time.  Right now, I would love more than anything to be on the staff at Sundog Books. 

I’d live in small little cottage a few blocks away, and every morning I’d get up early and walk for an hour on the beach.  After a quick swim to cool off, I’d go home to shower and then head in to the bookstore.  I can imagine the quiet of the store before it opens, as I’d walk through the aisles, straightening the shelves and choosing new books to highlight on the tables or stack on the shelves, breathing in the wonderful scent of books as I did.  In the summer, the days would pass quickly as sunburned tourists wandered in for a break from the heat, and left with a new book or two for the next day’s read by the ocean.  In the winter I’d have time to relax in a comfortable chair, catching up on my reading and enjoying talking books with the few locals and tourists that drop by.  I’d spend the evenings on the back porch with my friends, or enjoying another walk on the beach as the sunset.  Oh, I know even this life wouldn’t be perfect, I know I’d still be sad, but for right now it sounds like my idea of heaven.  

I wonder if any of you have similar fantasies of escaping your lives every now and then - if so, where would you go?  What would you do?

Girlfriends

The past 4 days with my girlfriends were wonderful. Sun, drinks, laughter and a few tears with friends you love – there really isn’t anything much better for the soul than that.  I'm sure that my friends were at least a little worried about what to say or how to act around me, but they didn't act like it.  They all let me know they were sad for me, but didn't let it become the focus of the weekend for me, or for them.  I was afraid I’d spend the entire vacation thinking, “I should be pregnant right now” but instead I had long periods of time where I didn’t even think about my miscarriage, much less the fact that I should be 14 weeks pregnant right now. And it felt really nice to have some of that sadness lifted off me for a while.

I did fall off the healthy eating wagon a little bit.  Ok, a lot.  And my whole alcohol restriction went out the window, too.  But it was all for a good cause, and every single drink was worth it!  Especially mimosas on the beach at sunset - I'll never forget toasting our friend Drea on the beach at sunset - it was a magical moment.

I think the raw wound of my miscarriage is beginning to scab over a little bit – I’m even starting to be able to feel truly excited about my next shot at trying to conceive. The most amazing thing is, I really believe it will happen, that I will have my baby. I never truly believed it could happen before my first BFP; I guess knowing my body really does know how to get pregnant has made me feel more certain of my success in the future. My fortune cookie tonight helped that feeling tremendously: “Good news of long-awaited event will arrive soon.”

And the next few days of that wait will be spent much like today – at the beach, which is still mercifully free of oil, for a few more days at least.

Vacation Bound

Last April, some of my girlfriends and I gathered in DC for a weekend with our friend Drea.  Drea was fighting Stage IV breast cancer at the age of 37, and we wanted a chance to spend time together. 

In the midst of a weekend full of food, laughter and cheesy movies, we came up with the idea of renting a house at the beach the following summer.  Drea was first to put her name on the list, and we looked at houses and dreamed of a relaxing vacation at the beach, even though we all knew chances were good she wouldn’t be able to join us.

September 20, 2009, Andrea Pool lost her battle with breast cancer.  Our friend loved romance novels, all things Disney, ballet, the color pink, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Alias.  After she graduated from the Bush School of Government and Public Service at Texas A&M, she took a job with the State Department, and we joked with her that she was using that job as a cover, and that she was really a real-life Sydney Bristow.  And she’d laugh with us.  But after she passed away, we all learned that she had been keeping a huge secret from us.  Drea, the Alias loving, romance novel reviewing bookworm, really was a CIA spy! In her application essay she had written that she wanted to dedicate her life to “protecting those who protect us.”  And she did.  But I still can’t believe that the girl who was never very good at keeping secrets, kept the fact that she was a spy from all of us!  I’m not sure if I would believe that she was really a spy, if I hadn’t heard her former boss talk about her at her memorial service last year.  Because really, who has friends that are spies?

Tonight I’m flying down to Destin, Florida and tomorrow I’m meeting up with my girls, as we keep our promise and join together at the beach for a long weekend together.  I was going to say that it won’t be the same without Drea, but I think she’s going to be there with us, even if we won’t actually see her.

Musical Therapy

Despite my zen-like attitude last night, I still had a crappy day yesterday.  Nothing in particular went wrong, it was just one of those days that made me feel very sad.  And so I didn't sleep well last night, and was grumpy all day today.  Until I met my friend Colette for wine and cheese before going out to hear Harry Connick, Jr.

And wow.  Move over, Bradley, because Harry has taken your place in my heart!  There is no experience in my life to compare to seeing (from 9 rows back) Harry gyrate and wiggle his ass on stage.  Oh, and he's also an amazing musician - and he's funny and able to roll with the punches as the audience gets crazy. (And it did get crazy!)

He played a lot of my favorite songs, a few that I'd never heard before, and a few he'd never played in concert before.  Me and the old guy next to me were boppin' in our seats in time to the music, and Colette and I were trying to contain ourselves as Harry did his sexy stuff onstage.

There's nothing like a good friend, good wine and two hours of great music and laughter to brighten a gloomy day.

Here's just one of the songs he did tonight - one of my all time favorites, and very appropriate for me right now.

Smile though your heart is aching

Smile even though it's breaking

When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by

If you smile, through your fear and sorrow

Smile, and maybe tomorrow

Youll see the sun come shining through for you

Light up your face with gladness

Hide every trace of sadness

Although a tear may be ever so near

Thats the time you must keep on trying

Smile, whats the use of crying? 

Youll find that life is still worthwhile

If you just smile

A New Plan

I had my follow-up with my RE yesterday – an appointment officially scheduled to make sure I was recovered from surgery, but was actually a chance to come up with a plan of action for next time.  And so here’s the plan - I have to wait at least 6 weeks after my D&C, and as soon as AF comes after that (and is “normal”), I can get started again.  I was hoping he would say as soon as AF comes, whenever that is, I can get started again, but I think a little longer delay is the right thing.  I’m still not able to listen to my “Visualizing Pregnancy” meditation, and I should, at the very least, be recovered enough to want to listen to that particular meditation before I’m ready to start TTC again!  I’m getting closer to being able to listen to it – but just not quite yet.

As for the rest of the plan, he wants to increase my Gonal-F for the next try, as he thought only 1 of my 2 good follies was really a contender last time.  I did prove that it only takes one egg, but we’d like to make sure that I have at least one GOOD egg next time.  He also (very diplomatically) pointed out, I’m not getting any younger, so we’re only going to try two IUIs, and if those don’t work, we’re going to regroup and talk IVF. 

Ok, just writing all down has me starting to get a little excited.  And a lot relieved.  I’m going on vacation next week, and was really starting to worry that I’d get AF while I was gone.  And now, if I do, it’s ok.  *huge sigh of relief*  I’d also been thinking of taking a long weekend by myself somewhere beachy for the 4th of July, and now I can go ahead and book something instead of waiting until the last minute.  *another huge sigh of relief*

When I was TTC the first time, I was always setting time limits – I need to be pregnant by Mindy’s baby shower, I need to be pregnant by the time my sister’s baby is born – I couldn’t help myself, but in retrospect, it really added to my stress level.  Even so, I was already finding myself doing the same thing all over again this time.   My RE putting a little unexpected delay in there seems to have cured me of that.  As I was driving back to work after my appointment, I suddenly realized that all the wishing and wanting and need to’s in the world won’t make it happen.  It’ll just happen, and all I can do is take care of myself and follow doctor’s orders to help it out. 

I really like this new Zen-like approach to thinking about my fertility.  I hope it sticks around!

A Proposal, A Ring and Brad.ley Coop.er

I received an offer of marriage yesterday.  Sort of.  Mr. L has been my patient for years, he’s a large man with a big belly and an even bigger heart, and a quirky sense of humor.  When I walked into the exam room yesterday he said, “We’ve got to talk.”  Uh-oh.  “I’ve been thinking, Pickle.” (Yes, he called me Pickle.  No idea why.)  “If anything ever happens to my wife, I want you and me to get married.  I’ve got a lot of money saved up in my 401(k) and CDs - I’m not rich but I’ve got enough.  I like to travel, you like to travel, it’s perfect.”  And then he paused.  “But don’t get the wrong idea.  I love my wife, so we get married only if something happens to her.” 

This has to be the most romantic thing anyone has said to me in the past 5 years.  But then he ruined it by singing “I like my girls a little bit trashy” as he walked out the door with his prescriptions in hand.

Yesterday, I also wore a new ring for the first time. After my miscarriage, I started thinking of buying myself a piece of jewelry to remember my baby by – it seems a little silly to have to have a physical reminder, but I do feel like I need something to show that I haven’t forgotten her, even as I move on and try to conceive again.  A ring seemed perfect, and after a lot of searching, I found the perfect one. Delicate, pretty, and sparkly.  It’s weird that something commemorating something sad can make me so happy, but it does.

I ended the day with a trip to the movies to see the A-Team.  It was wonderful, silly, escapist fun – and Bradley Cooper.  Let's pause for just a minute and think of Br.adley Coo.per in this movie.  Epic poems could be – should be - written about his abs. 

In retrospect, it’s a shame that the proposal, the ring and Br.adley Coope.r weren’t all part of the same story.  Now *that* would have been a great blog entry!

Perspective

I had a couple of interesting lessons about perspective today. First, as I was driving to work, I heard the day’s weather report on NPR. “There’s a chance of thunderstorms this afternoon – just a slight one, about 20%.”

Which is about the same chance my RE gave me for each IUI with Clomid. And it didn’t seem like a slight chance at all, in fact 20% sounded pretty darn good, until I got 2 BFN and suddenly 20% wasn’t acceptable at all. (Though, since I only produced one good follicle each time with Clomid, in retrospect, my chances weren’t really as good as 20% with those two tries.) When we switched to Femara plus Gonal-F, he said my chances were still about 20% - and my chances of multiples went up to about 20% as well. Strangely, 20% sounds good when talking about something like pregnancy, but then it also seems like an acceptably low risk when talking about something like multiples or thunderstorms. It’s all in what your perspective is when you’re considering the odds.

And for the record, we did get thunderstorms this afternoon. Big, dramatic ones with lots and lots of rain.

This afternoon, I saw a woman who was about to leave for Boston with her daughter and two year old grandson. He’d been born with some serious heart defects and “we can tell it’s time for another surgery because his little fingers and toes are turning blue again.” He’s had countless surgeries in his short life already and knows the doctors and nurses at the hospital in Boston as well as some kids know the staff at their day care. “We might be gone for a few weeks, but it could be as long as 4 months, so I’ll call for my follow-up appointment after I know when I’m going to be home.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say except, “I can’t imagine how incredibly stressful that is for you and your daughter.” She shrugged. “It’s what we’re used to. And it’s all he’s ever known. Most of the time, he’s a happy boy. We love him, he loves us. And when people ask me how he’s doing, I tell them, ‘He’s here with us now. And we’re savoring every second.’”

Now, I’m not saying that hearing this story has cured me of my grief over my miscarriage. Not at all. But her amazing way of looking at her life has led me to look at my own life from a different perspective. It really sucks that I’m not pregnant anymore. But I’m otherwise healthy, I responded well to Femara and Gonal-F, and there’s a good chance (more than 20%) that another IUI will work for me in the future. And the odds are with me that I’ll have a normal healthy baby. And one day, this horrible, icky time will just be a distant memory. But this horrible, icky memory will also be there to remind me just how lucky I am when I do have my own baby cradled in my arms.

Remembering

Tomorrow, I would have been 12 weeks pregnant. It was the day I’d planned to announce my pregnancy on Facebook – to all those out there who had no idea I was even trying to conceive in the first place. And wouldn’t you know it, an ex-boyfriend of mine posted today that he was taking his wife to the hospital, because she’s being induced tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he’s an EX-boyfriend, and I really wouldn’t want to be having a child with him myself right now, or ever. But even then, it was not fun to read. And so I hid him, because I really don’t want to hear all about it.

My pregnancy was a short one. I never felt her move. I don’t even know if the baby was a she, but I felt like she was. I never knew her. But I still have good pregnancy memories. And I’ve been trying to focus on those today, because while I feel like they should make me sad, they’re the only thing keeping me happy right now.

I loved having people rub my belly, even though there wasn't anything to rub yet. A patient (who I told in a moment of weakness, rationalizing that her follow-up appointment was a year from now) rubbed my tummy as she walked out of the room, “Take care of our baby.” My nurse, when I was in the midst of a particularly gassy day, couldn’t help but rub my tummy a few weeks ago. I didn’t have a baby bump – a gassy and chubby bump, yes - but no baby bump. But even then I still had people rubbing my belly. For now, I’m going to focus on imagining having a true baby bump sometime in the not-so-distant future, and imagine random strangers at Target rubbing my tummy without even asking. And when that happens, I’m going to remind myself that I once longed for that day, and promise I won’t let myself be irritated by the fact that some one I don’t know just touched my stomach. Even if they do feel my stomach fat instead of my baby bump.

I told my mom I was pregnant during dinner with my sister and her family, the day after my positive pregnancy test. My mom knew I’d gotten a BFN on 12DPIUI, and I think she was already focusing on my next cycle. So when I mentioned that we might have to celebrate this Christmas at my house, since there was a good chance I’d have a new baby, she smiled, nodded, and went back to eating. Luckily, my 3 year old nephew saved the day as his eyes went big and round and he said in awe, “Shannon, do you have a baby?” (Only when you’re three is it possible to believe that someone you see on an almost weekly basis could have a baby without you knowing.)

I looked at my mom as I answered him, “Yes, I do. I have a baby in my tummy, right now.” There’s nothing like the joy of sharing your pregnancy with others; I’m so glad I took a chance and told people with this pregnancy, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to experience that same kind of pure, innocent joy with the next one.

My mom was completely caught off guard, and even with me spelling it out, it took her a minute to process what I’d just said. My nephew wasn’t done with the questions, though. He interrupted whatever my mom was saying, “Shannon! Shannon! Shannon! Does your baby have a daddy?”

Silence reigned as we all pondered the question. Luckily, it was something I had expected at some point, and I did have an answer ready, once I’d gotten over the surprise of being asked so soon. “No, my baby just has a mommy.” As I’d hoped, this simple explanation satisfied him; he nodded his head and happily went back to eating, leaving the adults to celebrate my pregnancy.

My nephew, who has a new baby brother of his own, has been very interested in my pregnancy, so now that I’ve had a miscarriage, we’ve (we meaning my sister) had to explain that to him, too. Again, things are so straightforward when you’re 3 years old. My sister explained to him that the doctor had decided that it just wasn’t the right time for me to have a baby, and so the baby went away for a while, but will be back. He seems to accept the explanation, and knows I’m sad, but he’s also already making plans for when my baby does come.

Yummy in my Tummy

I'm finding it hard to readjust my brain to the thought that I'm preparing for another cycle of trying to conceive. The stress of waiting, testing, appointments and doctor's visits is overwhelming - it takes over my entire life. There are entire weeks at a time where I can't comfortably make out of town plans for fear I might need to be here for an ultrasound or an IUI. I have to cancel meetings and my patients at the last minute because we don't know until the last minute when I'll need to be at the RE's office. I have no control over much of anything except showing up on time for my appointments - appointments which I have no control over scheduling. My second thought after my BFP in April (after, "OMG, I'm going to be a mommy!") was, "Thank goodness I'm done with the IUIs." *sigh* And this time I don't have a clue when all this is going to start again, as I have no idea when AF might show up.

In an attempt to gain some semblance control, with my first three IUIs I tried all sorts of things to improve my chances, aside from just acupuncture. I'm not sure I'm ready to start back at all those things just yet, but my diet of junk food and birthday cake over the past couple of weeks has made it obvious that it's time to start working on at least one of my efforts at improving my fertility chances - my diet.

For most of the past year, I was following The Fertility Diet to the letter and being as healthy as I could be. Then I went on vacation in November, before I started trying to conceive, and never quite got back on board, though I was avoiding fast food and most junk food. I used the stress and fertility drugs as an excuse to be lazy (and it might have even been a valid one), but I was not eating as healthily as I should have been.

There's an interesting article about the fertility diet at a Canadian website for a fertility wellness center. In the article, the author points out that we already know what to eat for fertility health - it's the same things that we're supposed to be eating to decrease the risk of diabetes and heart disease. Yep, eating healthy is what you should do to improve your chances of conceiving - eating plenty of fruits and vegetables, unsaturated fats, and complex carbs, and avoiding saturated fats, trans fats and refined sugars. Chinese medicine takes that one step further, with specific recommendations based on your own symptoms, with specific foods that you should eat and foods you should avoid based on your body's energy balance, or chi. I've tried to incorporate some of the foods my acupuncturist told me I should eat, but for my own mental health I have to draw the line somewhere. Eating healthy is fairly easy, but following a super strict diet with prescribed foods is impossible, especially in the midst of the stress of trying to conceive.

I've enjoyed a couple of weeks of eating whatever I wanted - I figure I deserve it. But after all the junk food, I'm actually craving fruits and veggies! Tomorrow I'm going back to following a healthy diet. But for today, I'm living by the words of my 3 year old nephew who said, "Chocolate! Yummy in my tummy!"

Goodbye 38!

Yesterday was my 39th birthday. Birthdays and holidays are always a little hard for me, because it’s around these times of year that I can’t help but think, “Maybe next year, I’ll be in a relationship with a great guy.” “Maybe next year, I’ll be planning a wedding.” And first and foremost in my thoughts at my 38th birthday, “Maybe next year, I’ll be pregnant.”

And every single year the birthday or holiday comes around again, and I’m still thinking, “Maybe next year.”

Despite this, my birthday wasn’t bad. I had lots of cards, good presents, three cakes (two cookie, one traditional chocolate with white buttercream icing – my favorite!), and dinner with my girlfriends. I did indulge in a glass of wine, which was a bad idea, since it made me feel a little nauseated and weepy, even though it tasted lovely. But, the food and company were good, and the slow service made the night last longer, so I had more time with my friends who made me laugh more than I have in weeks.

Earlier this week, I told my office manager that I was dreading my birthday, that it was going to be a bad one. She responded, “No, it’ll be a good one. You’re saying goodbye to a year with bad things, and welcoming in a new year full of only wonderful things.” I know I have that optimism in me somewhere, I just need to find it.

Ice Cream is Good

After yesterday, I was convinced that today was going to be better. And in some ways, it was. My headache has subsided to a dull ache, and all the other associated symptoms are gone. But it was an emotionally difficult day, thanks to a crazy day at work, and so many pregnant ladies on my schedule.

I see lots of pregnant women on a daily basis - part of my specialty is treating women with diabetes in pregnancy. Most of them are gestational diabetics, meaning they didn't get diabetes until they were pregnant. And so most of them have due dates between June and August. It makes me sad to see their happy pregnant bellies, and it's hard to have compassion when they complain about having to watch their diets, but I can deal with that.

What was hard today was the fact that today I saw three pregnant women who were all due within 3 weeks of when I was due. It's unusual for me to see one woman this early in pregnancy, much less three. One of them I followed with her last pregnancy a few years ago, and she knew I was TTC, and she knew I was pregnant. Our diabetes educator had already told her about my miscarriage, so I didn't have to tell her. But it was still hard to see her for the first time, especially since she was so sad for me. She brought me a card and a Willow Tree Hope angel, and told me she'd understand if it was too hard for me to keep on seeing her. And honestly, that offer made me cry, and suddenly made it less painful to think of following her for the next 7 months. The other two patients didn't know I had been pregnant, so they were easier, in that I didn't cry, but harder since they're dealing with issues that I was dealing with just a couple of weeks ago (morning sickness, bloating - all the fun early pregnancy symptoms), and I couldn't let myself be sad until I'd left the room.

But maybe seeing these three women now is a good thing. It's helping me face being sad, and maybe it'll help me better heal from my miscarriage, so when AF returns in 4-6 weeks, I'll be fully prepared to start to try again.

In the meantime, I'm going to go eat an entire pint of Haagen Dazs Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream.

Monday for Tuesday

Today was a rough day. To all those women in the discussion board universe who post that they were back at 100% just days after their D&C – how was that possible? Here it is, a week later, and I still feel bad. I’m sure today was all about post-pregnancy hormone changes, since I’ve had what feels like my usual AF related headache for the past two days. Worse than a usual headache, but it feels like the same kind of thing. Add to that a little nausea, some dizziness, and an overwhelming urge to cry, and you have a good representation of my day.

Luckily, I had an acupuncture appointment tonight, my first since my miscarriage. I started seeing Hope (that’s really her name) last August after my fertility labs came back borderline low. I have no idea if my almost weekly sessions with her have made a difference in my fertility, but I do know they have made a difference in how I feel. After my first month of sessions with her, I started to feel more balanced, both emotionally and physically, than I have in years.

Each session starts with a discussion about how I’m feeling – a discussion that usually lasts about 10 minutes. Hope asks about all the little details, and she honestly seems interested in the answers. Part of the appeal of our sessions may have something to do with just how nice it is to have someone so very interested in the minutia of how I’m feeling from day to day. She then examines my tongue, feels my pulses and has my lie on the table. The needles are teeny tiny, and don’t usually hurt (though occasionally I do get a little zing from one in a particularly tender spot). Hope leaves me under heating lamps in a quiet room for 20-30 minutes, and that’s it. I usually leave feeling relaxed, refreshed and balanced. Today was no different. My head still hurts, but it’s eased off enough to breathe, and I was actually hungry for dinner tonight. Maybe I’m really on the road to recovery, after all.

If you’re really interested in how Chinese medicine works for fertility, I highly recommend The Infertility Cure by Randine Lewis. It’s an easy and fascinating read, even if you aren’t trying to get pregnant.

Oh, a completely random aside – JJ Abrams has a new show coming up next year! Undercovers - Hart to Hart meets Alias? The previews make it look like it has potential!