Birth Control and Prenatal Vitamins

My life is one big ironic mess.

I have PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome), which to this point, I've kind of not taken seriously.

But, it is serious. Women with PCOS are at greater risk for heart disease and diabetes. 6 out of 10 are overweight and many struggle significantly to lose weight, further increasing their risk.

I didn't really start putting on much weight until 2007 or 2008. That was about the time I went off birth control. For women with PCOS, birth control helps regulate the hormonal challenges of PCOS. It wasn't until I stopped taking it, that I learned I had it.

As I put on weight, I chalked it up to my eating habits and lack of inactivity. And, to be certain, the gallons of beer I've had over the past few years have not helped.

However, I have been working HARD for the past seven weeks to lose weight, and I have. In fact, they say that losing as much as 5% of your weight can greatly reduce the symptoms of PCOS. I have done that exactly, but my doctor has encouraged me to lose another 15 pounds.

Nonetheless, I can't help but feel like I am working excessively harder than most who are new to a diet and workout regimen. At one point, a doctor told me after a diagnostic test that I should eat somewhere between 1050 and 1175 calories a day in order to lose weight. Do you know how very little that is?

I workout extremely hard a minimum of 5 days a week. I do cardio as well as strength training and interval work. I have SIGNIFICANTLY cut down on alcohol intake.

I cannot help but think someone who had so drastically changed their lifestyle would have perhaps seen a much more dramatic weight loss in the first 6 weeks. To be sure, I feel better and my clothes feel better, but I am still wearing the same size.

I have gone back on birth control in the hopes of managing my hormonal issues and getting a boost in bringing my weight down. I am on prenatal vitamins because it is recommended to take them six months prior to conception (and it makes your hair shiny.) When you are working so hard towards pregnancy, taking that birth control pill each night really screws with your head, but I'm thinking long term goals here.

Despite the many undesirable symptoms of PCOS that I deal with everyday, I have been unwilling to think that the weight issue applied to me. I am beginning to realize that it may play a larger role than I cared to believe. It is disheartening to feel as though I am getting much less reward than those who work equally as hard at their fitness goals. However, despite the difficulty losing weight, I can say I'm not adding weight and can still reap the health benefits of exercise. (But a bikini body would be really nice.)

I am glad I have given myself a solid six months to take care of just me. My hope is that I will lose the weight the doctor requested, if not more, hopefully manage to get pregnant (although my PCOS and weight are only one factor effecting our infertility), and then continue to care for myself so that I do not suffer from diabetes or a heart attack at an early age.

As with any illness, you must adjust your life. It is possible that weight gain will always be very easy for me and weight loss quite difficult. I hope to continue making myself a bigger priority to fight that as best as I can. I hope to be a mother, but I also hope to be a healthy one.

"Elizabeth, you will get pregnant."

"Elizabeth, you will get pregnant. Don't give up."

This, THIS, is what my doctor says to me today. And she didn't say it because I looked tearfully into her eyes, asked in a pleading and desperate voice if I should throw in the towel. She spontaneously said this after explaining why there isn't any real problem or reason why things haven't worked just yet. That, in fact, of the obstacles we face, there are very clear ways to address them (which we have) and give us the same chances as any other couple. She said that even for a couple without our challenges, 3 failed attempts would not signify anything of concern. The stars must simply align.

Now, there are expensive and invasive procedures that she feels very confident would work and would be worth investing in if our marriage is on the rocks or the stress has become too much, essentially, if we're ready to get this over and done with. Or, we can continue to go the less expensive, less intense route another 2 or 3 times without feeling like we are unreasonably spinning our wheels. Nonetheless, "less expensive" is still a nice piece of change.

Regardless. We're giving ourselves some time to rebuild financially and hopefully physically and emotionally as well over the next 6 months. We have time to decide what we want to do.

But, today, it was nice to hear an unprovoked, assured (no fear of lawsuits due to false promises) admonition that we are fighting a fight we should win.

Happy 2011.

Infertility

This isn't the kind of story you can pick up in the middle and the full length of it is just too long.

So. I'll try to be brief.

For a long time, we stayed quiet about it. I think, for me, it was for fear of how others may feel and, in some way, I wanted to manage their response.

(Reference: Ill-advised, ranting email I sent to closest friends, who love me most, telling them how to handle me. Sigh.)

This topic is like a spot on my heart, that people and life, inadvertently and blamelessly, thump over and over again. Most of the time, I flex, take my hit and move on, but there are times when I'm tired and beaten. Each thump is entirely tolerable on it's own, but it bruises and tears and wounds after a while. Then I isolate, heal and reemerge to take another lickin'. And there are moments, when we are in the process, and the hope that THIS time it worked, keeps you very, very strong...until it doesn't.

Tim and I have completed 3 IUIs, which is a procedure meant to get me pregnant.

All three have failed. I discovered the last one failed today.

There have been countless shots, blood tests, sonograms, pills, acupuncture appointments, hours away from work, and time spent hoping. One test caused me to pass out from pain, but at least the results showed no problems.

In this process, I've learned that I'm not alone. There are many women who struggle with this issue. Many who achieve what they want via a means that no one ever hopes for. The question at the moment is when is enough enough? How far are we willing to go? And at this moment, I don't know.

As a person who had no interest in children at one point, who thought it would all be easy once I did and who shook my head wondering why it was SO important for women in my position to conceive a child, I understand how hard it is for others to understand where we're coming from or what we're dealing with. That's okay. I hope you never have to understand.

I just decided I didn't want to be quiet about it anymore. I don't want to talk about it all the time, but I'm over feeling like there is something intrinsically wrong with me or us. This is just our battle at the moment and since my reading audience is small and few, I figured if you cared enough to read, you may also care about what we're going through.

I also wanted to write this, just in case, God forbid you or your partner find yourself in the same position. The reason I was willing to get help in the first place was because someone was open enough to tell me what she had been through.

We will regroup and decide what we will do next summer and hopefully learn more about why things aren't currently working. In the meantime, I just thought it would be nice not to keep it a secret anymore.

Thanks for reading.

Much Love and Merry Christmas,

Elizabeth

Injustice Anywhere is a Threat to Justice Everywhere

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."
Martin Luther King Jr.

Today a gay coworker and friend became tearful as she told me of a recent political development where tons of money was going to support a candidate who stood avidly against homosexual rights of any kind.

She asked, "What have we done? What is so evil that we don't deserve the same rights as the elderly, the mentally handicapped, and other minorities?"

And, as she spoke, I knew why she did not have equal rights.

In graduate school for my counseling degree I had to write a paper about my growth as a person and future mental health professional. I had to identify my areas of strength and weakness.

I wrote, "I know, to the rest of the counseling world, these ideas are antiquated and outdated, but I do, to some extent, believe homosexuality is a perversion."

I wish the only shame I had about this statement was the fact I was redundant in my use of adjectives. To further my humiliation, I may have even written it with a sense of pride, that I was standing up for my beliefs, as unpopular as they were.

What I stood up for at that time was actually:

*The gay foster parents who cannot both have rights to the children they have rescued because our country cannot recognize their union. One parent must wait for the recognized foster parent to consent for medical services, to speak to the child's teacher or counselor. Should their relationship dissolve (much like a heterosexual couple), the non-foster parent has absolutely no rights to that child, even if they provided a majority of the care. In a custody situation where it is the gay couple versus a heterosexual couple, the heterosexual couple may have more clout because the homosexual home is a single-parent home, with no rights to be acknowledged as otherwise.

*I stood for a value that says, "Your love is not as good as mine. In fact, it is sick and perverse."

*I stood behind a faith that says, "We will love you no matter what, except for that. That, we cannot entertain or excuse. Our love is unconditional, but you are the exception to the rule." Or worse yet, "I love you but I don't love your sin. If you continue to sin, I cannot continue to be your friend and thereby support that."

Except, homosexuality is not like infidelity or stealing or lying. The only victim, the only one who is hurt, is typically the gay person, and the abusers are those with the stance above.

*I've supported a mindset which encourages people to deny themselves, to be inauthentic, to pretend every single day of their life that they are something they are not, simply remain alone, or live in shame.

They have limited options.
1. Engage in the gay lifestyle but face the constant lecture and disdain of those who feel you are doomed to hell and corrupt communities.

2. Pretend you are not gay and play a role. It is similar, no the same as, someone telling me I could only be with women, an act that I have no interest in and would probably be repulsed by. Even if I were more open to this concept, I would never reach the full fulfillment of a relationship that I am capable of with a man.

3. Remain celibate. Stay distant from all. The pain of being gay is too much. The idea of being with the opposite sex is too repulsive, and so they miss out on intimacy all together.

4. Be gay, but only secretly. Again, they live inauthentic lives and may engage in behaviors that put them at risk physically and emotionally. And when not engaged in these behaviors, when they live their life among a community that doesn't know their sexual orientation, they live with the constant sense that if they did know their secret, they would be ruined. Relationships never feel real because they never really are.

Homosexuality is a choice, but these are their options.

I know why my friend and her partner have no rights.

Mainstream is afraid. What if the traditional family becomes watered down? What if at my child's soccer games, there are male partnerships and female partnerships? Wasn't it bad enough to have to explain single-parent homes and blended families? It is too uncomfortable. The flaming guys are annoying. The butch females are unattractive. There is comfort in being a part of the majority. It feels right. That is too foreign, and let's just keep it simple, okay? We want our kids to grow up in a place with traditional family values, healthy family values.

And you are the one who decides what is 'healthy'.

If we can allow homosexuality to be okay, then what other Biblical/moral values must be re-evaluated? These morals are the foundation of our life. If you shake our foundation by picking and choosing what we do and don't like, what value system are we left with?

Yet somehow you navigated women speaking in church, and I believe Joyce Meyer's hair has been shorter than most men's for well over a decade. The Bible is the same book that speaks to ways of treating your slaves and sent women away from the community during menstruation. This tempering of Biblical rigidity is not unprecedented. As cultures grew and became more educated, so did their stance on values. Let's grow shall we?

The gays are so flamboyant. Have you seen a Gay Pride Celebration? They are so in your face about it. I could probably handle it if they would just integrate a bit more quietly.

The reason we don't have Straight Pride day is because there is no reason to. Can't you see that all of the opposition and oppression they have experienced gives them reason to rally, become unified and fight back? Do you realize that you are the reason it makes sense to have Gay Pride Celebrations, as a reaction to your attempts at keeping them isolated and quiet?

So why am I finally speaking up?

Perhaps I should say why I haven't to this point. I have plenty of friends who are conservative Christians. Friends that I care about. To take this stance means that I, in some ways, must also come out of the closet. And, why do that? Why rock the boat? I'm not gay so why pick a fight? Let's just remain silent.

But then, some of the most meaningful people in my life are gay. I love them and know them for so many wonderful things, and who they go home to at the end of the day plays a minor role in our relationship. Over time, I've seen them lie to strangers because it was just easier. I've witnessed their tolerance of hurtful words with grace. I saw a friend cry at the fear of being disowned by family and hell, and my rage has become palpable.

The majority is straight. It is easy to be straight and let them fight their own fight, but how can the minority win a vote? As a woman, many spoke up for me. I feel the responsibility to do the same.

I don't want my future grandchildren to look back on my life with the same shame I have for my racist ancestors.

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out -- because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out -- because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out -- because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out -- because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me -- and there was no one left to speak out for me.

*Martin Niemölle was a German pastor and theologian in 20th-century Germany. Arrested and imprisoned by the Nazis before the war, his most famous work was a poem he wrote criticizing the inactivity and apathy of German intellectuals and society to the growing menace of Nazism.

Learned Helplessness and Having Arrived

When I was in undergrad, I was taught the concept of "learned helplessness". Basically, dogs were placed in a room where the floor would send an electric shock. The dogs would paw and jump and try to escape by getting over the walls of their cage, but they were too high. Finally, after a while, the walls were lowered and the shock was administered. Instead of fighting, the dogs laid on the floor and whimpered. They had learned helplessness.

A trendy subject at the moment in the educational and helping fields is the "mindset of poverty". I haven't read anything on this yet, but the concept is provocative. It is something I have thought a great deal about.

My parents, according to the field in which I now work, would be considered "lower functioning". My father was not well educated and would have probably been diagnosed with some form of ADD or learning disability if he had ever been tested. He was a genius in certain things, truly a genius, but by traditional standards, he was awful at managing money or even knowing basic social cues. My mother is bi-polar, and not in the trendy, moody kind of way. She is mentally ill and it wasn't until I was an adult that I realized the world probably saw her as "off". A child's love is blind.

As for the mindset of poverty: In the home I grew up in, it was riddled with fleas due to our numerous cats and large Golden Retriever. We did not have air conditioning. We never, ever bought a car except when we could pay of the seller in installments or through bartering which meant our cars were rarely trustworthy. When my mother's glasses broke, she taped them up and pressed on. When we finally got carpet, it was quickly darkened with dirt and spilled food. I've only recently come to find the resource of steam cleaning. The furniture was worn where we sat, and the springs no longer sprung. Nothing matched because everything was found or handed down. When my clothes tore or got too tight, I added length to the waist with safety pins or fixed my hem. Everything, EVERYTHING was rigged. The antenna on the TV, the car engine, the lights, the legs of the table, everything...

I am not saying all of this for anyone to feel sorry for me. It is just one step on the way to my point. In the midst of all this, however, I did go to Christian, private school all my life. My father bartered and was shown grace in paying off my tuition. In these private schools, I was surrounded by people who made significantly more money than my family, for the most part. I went to churches where people lived in nice homes with successful, educated parents. Most of the time, in elementary school at least, I walked around feeling as though I didn't belong. I would walk into school and my head would drop. In junior high, some high school students were very kind and encouraging to me at my church. For the first time, I felt like someone saw something special in me. Making friends from then on helped out a lot.

Since then, and especially now, I feel as though the people I work with and the friends I have challenge me to be a "higher functioning" person. I remember this transition when I was in college and Tim paid maybe $150 a month for his little Ford Ranger pickup. I thought, "If a college student can do that, why couldn't my family? Why can't I?" I recently decorated our apartment. I thought about what curtains I would want and what might fill a space. These are questions I have never asked myself and felt as thought I were learning a new skill.

And finally to the point: I feel as though I am moving from one level of functioning to another. I think it has been a process that has taken the past 10 years of my life, and I have traveled it long enough to really evaluate it now. I liken it to acculturation, although I imagine my journey is not nearly as dramatic. Or maybe it is.

What I grapple with is how to maintain the aspects of my character that I like that I feel were intrinsically tied to the environment in which I grew up. For example, in the midst of our occasional poverty, my father still tithed religiously and would help anyone who asked. The "higher functioning" school of thought says that giving to all who ask is the quickest way to be among them. It is better to teach to fish via programming funded by rich people who attend champagne-fueled fundraisers under crystal chandeliers. I remember spending a Thanksgiving feeding the homeless and, that day, I felt as though we had something to give. I saw that there were those worse off than us.

My family rarely complained about anything. They accepted life on its own terms and did the best they could. They were resourceful, although others may occasionally call it shameless. They were indeed resourceful but never manipulative. Everyone around us suffered the way they did, and so it was about community, about helping out your neighbor, partly because it was the right thing to do, and partly because you would someday need their help as well. Or, perhaps, someday, you would be exactly where they are. In that environment, we all understood that we were doing the best we could. There wasn't competition. There was humility. There was also those who took advantage, but they were quickly identifiable. Mostly, it was good people who were doing the best they knew how to survive and have meaning and happiness like everyone else.

In this new place that I feel I am slowly becoming accustomed to, we complain and are entitled to everything! We grow angry so quickly. We toss things out the second a new thing is on the market. At the same time, in this new area, we speak up whenever we want something. We aren't afraid to ask. We are worthy of good things, albeit sometimes it can tip so negatively into "entitled" to good things, but our worth is not in question. In this "higher functioning" place, we aren't so tired because we spend all of our energy just trying to get by. There is time for cultivating beauty, for learning skills that bring fulfillment or joy. There is time for fun, and life isn't quite so exhausting, so serious all the time. It is easier to say "no" the needy person because they are nowhere around. We say no and no longer have to see them. Out of sight. Out of mind. Or worse yet, we blame them for their predicament when they grew up in a world of learned helplessness. The answer is clear to the arrogant because they are unfamiliar with the struggle.

Because of where I grew up, I am never "too good" for anyone. I may keep my distance from some for my own protection but I know I am no better. I feel like I look as though I no longer belong among the "lower functioning" due to the occasional pedicure and shopping trip, and I am kind of ashamed of that. At fancy benefit dinners, I typically know the wait staff's names better than the hosts. I want them to know I belong in their ranks. Because of where I grew up, I constantly grapple with what really matters. Decorating my apartment plagued me with a sense of vanity. Is the guilt enough penance to secure that I still know what is important in this life? I feel like because of where I grew up, I have a constant sense of appreciation for what I have now which fuels me with optimism. I feel like because of where I grew up, I could survive should I lose most of what I have now. I feel like it gave me strength and, more importantly, perspective.

To be clear, where I live now, I have by no means "arrived", but I feel like my children won't have the same struggle I did. This is both encouraging and saddening for me. How do I instill the depth, appreciation, and humility in them that I gained in a small wooden house? How do I raise children to appreciate the little things when they will grow up in front of a TV 3 times larger than them, an apartment with a tanning pool, and a mother who gets her hair cut at Toni and Guy? How do I teach them what really matters?

At the same time, it is possible my children won't feel out of place in any pretentious crowd, asking for what they want, or standing up for themselves. My children won't have to be sick with no doctor or feel like life is something you must survive rather than enjoy. My children may not waste time learning what the "higher functioning" grew up knowing from day one and will be able to forego the lessons it took me so much time to learn. My children may possibly grow up naturally thinking in a way that I would consider "out of the box".

It is a process of acculturation, and I feel as though I am first-generation. It is something I am trying to make sense of and yet I feel as though it is the best among the generations. I do not wish to live with the struggle my parents had and I am thankful for the groundedness my experience has brought me. So, can the lessons I've learned through the struggle really be passed on to the next generation without experiencing such a significant struggle themselves? Can I continue to live as I am and not lose my perspective? Am I "selling out" or growing? Am I being lulled into living a comfortable, benign life or am I progressing? The great figures of history did not live lives of luxury.

I'm talking like we are living in a 7 figure household, but in comparison to where I grew up, we may as well. I am fully aware there are many out there significantly more financially "successful" than we are. But for me, our home, our standard of living, is very different than anything I ever imagined for myself. If you are unimpressed with the way we currently live, then let that speak to how rough things were in my family of origin.

Despise not the day of small beginnings...

"Is Everything Well With Your Soul?"

Is everything well with your soul?

Okay, so I know the question is weird. I thought it was weird too. I was catching up an old friend, and realized much later that it was probably a reference to the hymn, "It is Well with My Soul". Anyway, it struck me oddly. People frequently ask, "How are you doing? or "How is it going?" but when is the last time someone asked how your soul is? My guess is never.

I mean it gets to the root of are you healthy/happy/content on all levels?

Well, are you?

Nietzsche and the Benedictines

I was working with a group of children in a school and a child pushed ahead of the other to be at the front of the line. The child whose position had been usurped, didn't put up much of a struggle despite the injustice and their clear frustration. As the adult in the situation, I sent the child who had taken the position at the front to the back of the line as punishment for his selfishness.

However, this little incidence carries a great deal of weight, and I even noticed it at the time. If I followed Nietzsche's concepts as I understand them, I would have remained silent, if not applauded the child who pushed ahead for following his natural instincts, for not denying his self-centeredness. I would have looked at the child who was now second in line and hoped that some day he would learn how to fight back. When you look at our world, it appears as though those at the very top are those who haven't minded stepping on a few toes, even feet, actually shooting off legs to get ahead. In the animal world, it is kill or be killed, frequently brutal, and what is it about our humanness that makes us so removed? Nietzsche believed that the whole Judeo-Christian concept asked us to turn against our natural instincts which is to strive, to fight, to be kind, but only in as much as it serves our needs and desires. To live well, one must be powerful.

On the other hand, I am reading a book called The Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris. This author goes to stay with the Benedictine monks who are significantly more liberal than the traditional monks of my rather limited experience. The basic concept, again as much as I have come to understand it so far, is that we are living in a world of inflated self importance (which would perhaps shake its head at the whole blogging phenomenon). This order of monks lives communally, and the good of the community always takes precedence to that of the individual. The author exemplifies this point in that she asked one of the monks how he liked his eggs cooked. He smiled because he had rarely had to think of his preference. He ate what the community had eaten. The bigger picture to this concept is that when we live such entitled and individually catered lives, we lose the ability to distinguish those things that we need from those things that we desire. There are things in this world that matter, but our preferences are not among them.

Like nearly everyone I know, I went through a phase where I was actively trying to "find myself". I began my search by trying to find what music or movies I liked despite how others felt about them. I attempted to define myself with a variety of adjectives and anecdotes I would put on a My Space profile page.

However, in light of this reading, it seems that we are defined not so much by our tastes. In fact, those things are given little importance at all, but rather, it is our ability to contribute to the community on whole. This is not to say that those who are sick or old have no purpose. All are a part of something much bigger and are treated with the respect that comes along with that.

Perhaps the clearest distinction between these two seemingly very opposite modes of thought is Nietzsche's proposal that "God is dead," in contrast to the Benedictine assertion that God indeed exists and so you must live according to your "call". Where do you fit in? How can you contribute to your fellow man, woman, and child? It is unfair for me to say this because I am not nearly educated enough on either concept, but it seems the extreme of Nietzsche's ideas would lead to Hitler's Germany and the Benedictine's extreme would lead to, well, the order of the Benedictine monks which to an outsider, has cult-like undercurrents.

If my pseudo-philosophical deductions carry any weight, then I suppose at my core I am more Theist than Atheist because, after all, I sent the kid to the back of the line.

I find it relieving that uncovering the mystery of "who I am" is irrelevant in comparison to my impact. The whole identity question was frustratingly elusive.