First, I would like to announce that I did not meltdown on the car ride back from my grandma's 90th birthday. In the car on the way there, I said there was an 87% chance I'd have a meltdown and J said he thought it was 100% for sure. Well, looks like I'm 13% correct. Boo-yah. That being said, I can't gloat too much because I chose instead to cry off my makeup on the way to the party instead (bets were made after I stopped crying and reapplied mascara). I guess I was all dried out at that point.
The celebration was completely survivable as I've learned most things are. My cousin, a serious triathlete, looks completely adorable at 5-6 months pregnant as she has absolutely no body fat and carries her fetus outside of her body, covered by a thin layer of skin and muscle. She is having a boy. That elicits no response emotional response from me as I figured it was one or the other. No word yet on what my sister is having. That will bring up some *feelings* because, if it's a girl, I'll feel like she stole my girl. Insane, I know. I have always wanted a girl (though quite honestly would be thrilled to be pregnant with a mammal of any gender at this point) and she has always wanted boys. Ipso facto, if she is carrying a girl she will have effectively stolen it from me. I am completely aware that that statement in itself warrants a straight jacket and a visit from some nice men in white coats. Self-awareness is at least half the battle. We used to joke that if she had girls and I had boys, we would trade. Now I feel like she might not follow through on said promise. It would solve a lot of issues though...
Moving beyond that rant, while the afternoon started a little awkward turtle, it ended up fine. These fertiles are my family, I love them, and I can deal when forced to do so.
On to happier things. IVF #2 - It feels so damn good to be back in the saddle again. Of course I wish that I didn't have such a crippled horse to ride but my horse is my horse. This cycle is markedly different than the first. I am just so. much. calmer. I feel like a normal (bloated) person this time around. Yes, I shoot up twice a day and have done so in the comfort of my filthy, dog-hair-covered car and my friend's kitchen, but I really feel like I'm going on with normal life. I've been more lax about my so-called "fertility diet," allowing myself to enjoy gluten a little more regularly and small amounts of dairy like a normal human being. Last cycle, I listened to Circle + Bloom relaxation/imagery recordings every night to fall asleep. I imagined follicles growing and humming with life. I relied on those recordings to get to sleep and to stop feeling like a nervous wreck.This cycle, before bed I read whatever is loaded on my kindle and fall dead asleep. Pretty much like every other night. It's kind of a dream. Obviously I'm still nervous about the outcome. I'm not that calm. I'm normal. Surprisingly normal for day 7 of stims. Let's just see how we do come retrieval-transfer, shall we?
Showing posts with label Fertility Diet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fertility Diet. Show all posts
Monday, July 15, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
Tough Talk about Crazy Pills.
About 8 years ago, I went through a really deep, dark and scary depression-anxiety combo platter. It was not my first bout with depression but it was the first time that anxiety rattled my brain and left me a house-bound mess. I dutifully went to therapy and practiced yoga on the rare occasion when I could peel myself off my couch. I tried my damnedest to get through it without medication. I couldn't do it. Believe me, I gave it the good old college try.
After truly suffering for about 8 months, I finally succumbed and started anti-depressants (SSRI). Within weeks, I felt as though somebody had flipped on a light switch in my body. The fog began to lift. Dramatically. I laughed, I enjoyed myself, I stopped constantly crying hysterically for no real reason. I had felt like horrendous doom was around every corner and then POOF! doom disappeared. It felt like nothing short of a miracle. It still does. Three years ago, I tried to go off of SSRIs to prepare my body for getting pregnant. We weren't yet trying and I wanted to see if I could do it. Under the care of a psychiatrist that specializes in women's health and pregnancy, I slowly weaned myself off. It didn't take long for the light to switch back off and the fog to descend. Once again, I fought for over half a year before it dawned on me that it would be pretty hard to get pregnant if nobody wanted to sleep with sad, angry me. And so, I went back on. It was hard. I struggled significantly with that decision. Shed a whole lot of tears. At the end, I knew that to be a good mother - both while pregnant and after - I needed to be a healthy, sane and happy person. For better or worse, anti-depressants are part of what help me feel like me instead of a sluggish, hateful zombie. They don't work for everyone. I'm lucky that there's a solution out there for me.
I know that SSRIs carry risks to babies. The most well documented risks include PPHN (persistent pulmonary hypertension of the newborn) and heart defects. These risks are very low but they do exist. Depression during pregnancy also carries risks: pre-term labor, low birth weight and elevated cortisol levels at birth.
What's a crazy girl to do? I can only remark on what I've chosen. I'm on sertraline (Zoloft) - the SSRI considered the "safest" during pregnancy. While I still occasional doubts about my choice, I know that my mental health is critical to the physical health of me and my future baby. There are no awards given out for abject suffering and one must deal with the demerits.
As a fertility patient, I've been making choices about my own "greater good" for some time now. Since I started on medications designed to hyper-stimulate my ovaries one year ago, I've knowingly been ingesting and injecting drugs that increase my odds of getting ovarian cancer later in life. I see this as part of the difficult trade off of modern life and medicine: we have access to drugs, hormones, and procedures that we never had before. We can survive cancer, get pregnant despite a slew of otherwise debilitating factors, test for genetic predispositions, eradicate diseases that once killed thousands, transplant organs and implant devices that make our hearts beat. On the other hand, we pickle our food with hormones and pesticides and cloud our skies and water with pollutants, some of which may cause the very conditions we work so hard to cure. I realize that my choice to stay on anti-depressants while trying to limit my gluten, dairy and caffeine intake is in some ways ridiculous. Infertility makes you nuts, what can I say?
This was all brought on by an email I received this morning from my father-in-law. He sent this link regarding anti-depressant use during pregnancy to me, J, his daughter (also struggling with infertility, also on anti-depressants) and son-in-law. A professor at the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (UK), states in the article that the risks inherent to SSRI use during pregnancy for women with mild to moderate depression "are not worth taking." I don't believe that my depression is mild or moderate, though who is to say? It's a deeply personal, subjective assessment. It is very easy to say that there are no risks worth taking when it comes to pregnancy and the health of your child. The decision is far harder when the "safer" road presents the risk of mental illness for the mother and a set of different, perhaps less precarious threats to the baby.
My father-in-law meant no harm. He wants us to be safe and his future grandchildren to be healthy. Believe me, so do I. My first reaction to the email was rage, then sadness and now, calm rationalism. Here is the informed choice I made after many years of anguish and research. I do what I can and pray that my choice will one day matter at all.
After truly suffering for about 8 months, I finally succumbed and started anti-depressants (SSRI). Within weeks, I felt as though somebody had flipped on a light switch in my body. The fog began to lift. Dramatically. I laughed, I enjoyed myself, I stopped constantly crying hysterically for no real reason. I had felt like horrendous doom was around every corner and then POOF! doom disappeared. It felt like nothing short of a miracle. It still does. Three years ago, I tried to go off of SSRIs to prepare my body for getting pregnant. We weren't yet trying and I wanted to see if I could do it. Under the care of a psychiatrist that specializes in women's health and pregnancy, I slowly weaned myself off. It didn't take long for the light to switch back off and the fog to descend. Once again, I fought for over half a year before it dawned on me that it would be pretty hard to get pregnant if nobody wanted to sleep with sad, angry me. And so, I went back on. It was hard. I struggled significantly with that decision. Shed a whole lot of tears. At the end, I knew that to be a good mother - both while pregnant and after - I needed to be a healthy, sane and happy person. For better or worse, anti-depressants are part of what help me feel like me instead of a sluggish, hateful zombie. They don't work for everyone. I'm lucky that there's a solution out there for me.
I know that SSRIs carry risks to babies. The most well documented risks include PPHN (persistent pulmonary hypertension of the newborn) and heart defects. These risks are very low but they do exist. Depression during pregnancy also carries risks: pre-term labor, low birth weight and elevated cortisol levels at birth.
What's a crazy girl to do? I can only remark on what I've chosen. I'm on sertraline (Zoloft) - the SSRI considered the "safest" during pregnancy. While I still occasional doubts about my choice, I know that my mental health is critical to the physical health of me and my future baby. There are no awards given out for abject suffering and one must deal with the demerits.
As a fertility patient, I've been making choices about my own "greater good" for some time now. Since I started on medications designed to hyper-stimulate my ovaries one year ago, I've knowingly been ingesting and injecting drugs that increase my odds of getting ovarian cancer later in life. I see this as part of the difficult trade off of modern life and medicine: we have access to drugs, hormones, and procedures that we never had before. We can survive cancer, get pregnant despite a slew of otherwise debilitating factors, test for genetic predispositions, eradicate diseases that once killed thousands, transplant organs and implant devices that make our hearts beat. On the other hand, we pickle our food with hormones and pesticides and cloud our skies and water with pollutants, some of which may cause the very conditions we work so hard to cure. I realize that my choice to stay on anti-depressants while trying to limit my gluten, dairy and caffeine intake is in some ways ridiculous. Infertility makes you nuts, what can I say?
This was all brought on by an email I received this morning from my father-in-law. He sent this link regarding anti-depressant use during pregnancy to me, J, his daughter (also struggling with infertility, also on anti-depressants) and son-in-law. A professor at the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (UK), states in the article that the risks inherent to SSRI use during pregnancy for women with mild to moderate depression "are not worth taking." I don't believe that my depression is mild or moderate, though who is to say? It's a deeply personal, subjective assessment. It is very easy to say that there are no risks worth taking when it comes to pregnancy and the health of your child. The decision is far harder when the "safer" road presents the risk of mental illness for the mother and a set of different, perhaps less precarious threats to the baby.
My father-in-law meant no harm. He wants us to be safe and his future grandchildren to be healthy. Believe me, so do I. My first reaction to the email was rage, then sadness and now, calm rationalism. Here is the informed choice I made after many years of anguish and research. I do what I can and pray that my choice will one day matter at all.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Birthday Survived, Nay Thrived.
Despite my best efforts to be a total angsty mess, I actually had a pretty perfect birthday. Admittedly there were a few tears leading up to the event but once I woke up on June 8th, all was good. This beautiful day - somewhat of a rarity lately in Chicago - started with coffee and a croissant (yup, you read right. Caffeine and gluten. Suck it, fertility diet!) with J. Then I made the effort to look well-groomed and hygienic (a must on your 31st) and skedaddled over my best gay, David's house for brunch. Sated with food and mimosas, I later met up with Maggie and Vlad and took in Midsommarfest, my first neighborhood festival of the season. All this was followed by drinks on a lovely patio and eventually dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in Chicago, HB. A perfect summer day with my hubbie and friends.
A pre-birthday story for you: I was born around 6:30 AM on June 8th. Therefore, and especially important given the events of 4:45 AM on June 8th, my birthday does not start until that exact time. No sooner. My dog Ella had a nasty case of diarrhea this weekend, brought on by God knows what. As you dog owners will know, dog diarrhea gets bloody really fast. Dogs are all about drama. In the wee hours of 6/8, Ella started to bark to go out. Since J had walked her last at 2 AM, I got up. We walked and, as I entered the house again and turned on the light, I saw that my kitchen floor was covered in shit and blood. So, at 4:45 AM, I scrubbed shit and blood on my hands and knees. At first I thought, "this better not be some kind of fucked up omen about this year." I then realized that it was not yet technically my birthday and decided instead that I was metaphorically scrubbing away the "shit" year (get it?!?) that had been. 4 IUIs, 1 IVF & 1 miscarriage wiped clean like my kitchen floor. And with that, I went back to bed and awoke a reasonable amount of hours later to coffee and croissants. Universe, if you send it, I will spin it.
Don't worry. After a strict diet of rice and ground chicken and frequent walks, Ella is just fine.
As planned and dreaded, my family went to brunch on Sunday. The weather was lovely, food delicious, and company pleasant. All internal squirming was kept to a minimum. I squeezed out a few tears on the drive home because it's what I do but generally the most icky part of the birthday dance was bearable. I won't go farther than that, bearable will do for now.
All in all, I think I aced my 31st birthday. Special recognition to J, David, *Maggie and Vlad* for making it extra special and far more than bearable.
*I made up the names Maggie and Vlad when they first appeared in the blog. They're not terribly far from their real names but regardless the pseudonyms feel so damned ridiculous. I cringe when I type them. But, I made my bed and shall lie in it. The other option is to reveal their real names and social security numbers in a subsequent post. Might do that.
A pre-birthday story for you: I was born around 6:30 AM on June 8th. Therefore, and especially important given the events of 4:45 AM on June 8th, my birthday does not start until that exact time. No sooner. My dog Ella had a nasty case of diarrhea this weekend, brought on by God knows what. As you dog owners will know, dog diarrhea gets bloody really fast. Dogs are all about drama. In the wee hours of 6/8, Ella started to bark to go out. Since J had walked her last at 2 AM, I got up. We walked and, as I entered the house again and turned on the light, I saw that my kitchen floor was covered in shit and blood. So, at 4:45 AM, I scrubbed shit and blood on my hands and knees. At first I thought, "this better not be some kind of fucked up omen about this year." I then realized that it was not yet technically my birthday and decided instead that I was metaphorically scrubbing away the "shit" year (get it?!?) that had been. 4 IUIs, 1 IVF & 1 miscarriage wiped clean like my kitchen floor. And with that, I went back to bed and awoke a reasonable amount of hours later to coffee and croissants. Universe, if you send it, I will spin it.
Don't worry. After a strict diet of rice and ground chicken and frequent walks, Ella is just fine.
As planned and dreaded, my family went to brunch on Sunday. The weather was lovely, food delicious, and company pleasant. All internal squirming was kept to a minimum. I squeezed out a few tears on the drive home because it's what I do but generally the most icky part of the birthday dance was bearable. I won't go farther than that, bearable will do for now.
All in all, I think I aced my 31st birthday. Special recognition to J, David, *Maggie and Vlad* for making it extra special and far more than bearable.
*I made up the names Maggie and Vlad when they first appeared in the blog. They're not terribly far from their real names but regardless the pseudonyms feel so damned ridiculous. I cringe when I type them. But, I made my bed and shall lie in it. The other option is to reveal their real names and social security numbers in a subsequent post. Might do that.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Love to my ladies.
It's been a week since my last post. I'm getting lazy in my old age. Life has been continuing, progressing, despite my frequent desire to drop into the fetal position and roll under the nearest piece of furniture. My lows are still frightfully low but thankfully getting farther and farther apart. Some things have been very good. This past weekend, I got to luxuriate in the company of two of my dearest friends, S and L, in Boston. I travel to Nantucket for work fairly frequently (a hearty "thank you" for crying me a river and playing tiny violins) and make it a point to schedule weekend-long layovers at S's house in Boston. Whenever possible, L drives up from New York and we make a high school reunion out of it. This weekend we laughed a lot, ate great food, and drank a little too much. It was glorious. Where last week in Wisconsin I was reminded of who I was outside the hamster-wheel of infertility; this week my oldest and truest friends reminded me that we have all stuck together through very hard times before. In this pack of 6 girls - some of us who have been friends since grade school - we have seen each other through a sibling's fight (and win) against cancer, a bunch of shitty breakups, bouts of depressions, big and small family issues and a thousand difficult episodes in between that have faded into the past. I am so grateful to have their support now as always. I only wish I got to see them more often. I'm holding out for advances in the time-space continuum and Harry Potter chimney travel to increase the frequency of our visits.
This week also brought relatively good news on the miscarriage front. I have a hard time mentally framing any news about my miscarriage as positive, particularly in the face of my family's recent pregnancy pact a la Gloucester High, but anything that suggests that this could be over sometime in the next fiscal quarter can't be all bad. On Monday, 4 days after my methotrexate shot, my HCG levels dropped from 300-something to 93. On Friday, the date of my 7-day full blood panel, I learned my liver had gotten through the methotrexate with flying colors (hence the weekend cocktails) and my HCG went down to 57. That is barely pregnant. Just a little bit pregnant with nothing. Were I not consistently lightly spotting and still nodding off at work at 4 pm, I wouldn't know anything was amiss. My next beta is scheduled for this Friday. Come on single digits!
It has been a great relief to know that this miscarriage is finally on its way out the door. It will be an even greater relief when I stop spotting, perhaps ovulate on my very own (look ma, no trigger shot!), and get my period. Then we can get this show on the road and I can finally step out of limbo. When that time comes, I'll have to decide whether I want to start another round of IVF or hold off for one more cycle. Let me get this straight. I absolutely 100% want to do another round of IVF immediately. Preferably 5 minutes ago, however, I have to flush this foul methotrexate out of my system and wait for my period which in the past has never come when I called. For my first round, I was so careful. I cut dairy, gluten and alcohol out of my diet. I rested whenever I felt tired. I treated myself really, really well and I believe that it helped result in a pregnancy. My period and next shot at IVF will most likely come in early summer. Between work, personal obligations and lots of travel, June and July are going to be slammed for me. Should I be patient and wait for the perfect window (um, never?) or push forward with this next cycle? Ugh. I hate being a grown up. Why couldn't I get knocked up at some inopportune time like the other kids?
Wait, who's going to remind me to stop planning for things (uterus, I'm looking at you) I have absolutely no control over? Anybody?
This week also brought relatively good news on the miscarriage front. I have a hard time mentally framing any news about my miscarriage as positive, particularly in the face of my family's recent pregnancy pact a la Gloucester High, but anything that suggests that this could be over sometime in the next fiscal quarter can't be all bad. On Monday, 4 days after my methotrexate shot, my HCG levels dropped from 300-something to 93. On Friday, the date of my 7-day full blood panel, I learned my liver had gotten through the methotrexate with flying colors (hence the weekend cocktails) and my HCG went down to 57. That is barely pregnant. Just a little bit pregnant with nothing. Were I not consistently lightly spotting and still nodding off at work at 4 pm, I wouldn't know anything was amiss. My next beta is scheduled for this Friday. Come on single digits!
It has been a great relief to know that this miscarriage is finally on its way out the door. It will be an even greater relief when I stop spotting, perhaps ovulate on my very own (look ma, no trigger shot!), and get my period. Then we can get this show on the road and I can finally step out of limbo. When that time comes, I'll have to decide whether I want to start another round of IVF or hold off for one more cycle. Let me get this straight. I absolutely 100% want to do another round of IVF immediately. Preferably 5 minutes ago, however, I have to flush this foul methotrexate out of my system and wait for my period which in the past has never come when I called. For my first round, I was so careful. I cut dairy, gluten and alcohol out of my diet. I rested whenever I felt tired. I treated myself really, really well and I believe that it helped result in a pregnancy. My period and next shot at IVF will most likely come in early summer. Between work, personal obligations and lots of travel, June and July are going to be slammed for me. Should I be patient and wait for the perfect window (um, never?) or push forward with this next cycle? Ugh. I hate being a grown up. Why couldn't I get knocked up at some inopportune time like the other kids?
Wait, who's going to remind me to stop planning for things (uterus, I'm looking at you) I have absolutely no control over? Anybody?
Thursday, March 28, 2013
The last real day - 8dp3dt
I am considering this the last real day before my blood test. (I honestly can't bear using the words "pregnancy test." Perhaps I'll pretend I'm being blood typed or something as I sit in the chair with my favorite salsa dancing lab technician. I don't know his name, he probably knows mine or my patient ID. All day he listens and sings out loud to old school salsa. I love it. It's much easier to distract myself while he croons.) I say the last real day because A) I am a child and have a warped sense of time and B) tomorrow is Good Friday and I have the day off of work. Tomorrow will be a fun day to simply fritter away. I might get my bangs trimmed and visit my grandma. It might be that wild and crazy. That is, after I complete the Stations of the Cross. Um, not really. I don't actually even know what that means in a practical sense. I figure it would require prayer and walking on my
knees on stone flooring.
My single goal for today is to be productive at work (good start, eh?). This is a formidable task since I spend much of my day sitting in front of the sickly glow of Dr. Google. Don't google today. There is nothing to be found. There is no magical combination of search terms to tell you if you're pregnant or not, or what medications you should be on next time if there is a next time.
Is it horrible to admit that I think there will be a next time? And that I'm not all that upset about it? Not really. I just expect it. When you've been on such a long road, it's very hard to imagine that you'll ever get to pull over and take a nap. Long distance trucking is an absolutely apt description for infertility.
On this last real day and last real blog post before my blood donation, I wanted to do a little product placement. Here's to you, Tylenol! The only drug I can take during IVF and pregnancy. Cures about 7% of what ails ya. Seriously though, this fertility haul has made me look a lot at my diet. I never ate particularly unhealthily but I have made a few real changes to my diet. First, I scrapped my dependence on caffeine. It hurt. Terribly. But just for a little while. I went from 2-3 cups of strong coffee a day to zero with an occasional cup of decaf to get me through the shakes. I weaned myself slowly going from full blast to half-caf to decaf and then nada. I drank green tea for a while, mostly decaf, but got really tired of it. It is an uninspiring hot beverage and, according to my acupuncturist (yep, I've gone all crunchy granola these days), too cooling to the body. These days I'm allowing myself black tea or homemade chai with almond milk in the morning. It's caffeinated but pales in comparison to a grande dark roast. Product placement #1 - Lipton Yellow Label and Twinings English Breakfast.
Another change has been my full acceptance of the fact that I'm lactose intolerant. No more grilled cheese sandwiches with creamy soup. Worst of all, no more ice cream (well, a very occasional treat). It's remarkable how grateful my digestive system is. Product placement #2 - Almond milk. Any brand. Thank you.
The most difficult change has been avoiding gluten. I don't eat completely gluten free. I don't have the patience nor the ill-effects of a true gluten intolerance to inspire me. While I'm certainly not any shade of Celiac, I have learned that gluten is an inflammatory and is thought to affect fertility. And since my fertility is certainly affected, I thought I'd give going gluten-free (or gluten-limited) a whirl. I don't know if it's affected much of anything. If anything, it's kept me from being so carb dependent. I know that this is not a change I'll incorporate into the rest of my life but it gives me a sense of control for now. One of the hardest things about infertility is the feeling that you can't control your treatments and the outcome. Diet is one productive thing to grab hold of. And with that, product placement #3 - a shout out to Ancient Harvest quinoa spaghetti, Udi's Gluten-Free breads, Pamela's cookies, herb bread from Marie Catrib's of Grand Rapids, MI and rice crackers. Ok, looks like I'm just as carb dependent as before.
Finally, phyto-estrogens. This is sort of a minefield and one I choose not to drive myself crazy with. I've got plenty of crazy. Soy is a phyto-estrogen and can negatively impact your hormonal balance when consumed in large amounts. So I simply limit my tofu and soy milk intake. That's it.
Is any of this making a difference? Who knows. All of the changes I have made simply feel like healthy ones. I haven't lost any weight and have only seen digestive benefits. I'll spare you the details. Much of this won't all stay with me when infertility is behind me. I miss coffee and bagels too much. Together and separately. Coffee and bagels, I will come back. Just not yet.
What diet and lifestyle changes have you made to reach a goal, fertility related or otherwise?
knees on stone flooring.
My single goal for today is to be productive at work (good start, eh?). This is a formidable task since I spend much of my day sitting in front of the sickly glow of Dr. Google. Don't google today. There is nothing to be found. There is no magical combination of search terms to tell you if you're pregnant or not, or what medications you should be on next time if there is a next time.
Is it horrible to admit that I think there will be a next time? And that I'm not all that upset about it? Not really. I just expect it. When you've been on such a long road, it's very hard to imagine that you'll ever get to pull over and take a nap. Long distance trucking is an absolutely apt description for infertility.
On this last real day and last real blog post before my blood donation, I wanted to do a little product placement. Here's to you, Tylenol! The only drug I can take during IVF and pregnancy. Cures about 7% of what ails ya. Seriously though, this fertility haul has made me look a lot at my diet. I never ate particularly unhealthily but I have made a few real changes to my diet. First, I scrapped my dependence on caffeine. It hurt. Terribly. But just for a little while. I went from 2-3 cups of strong coffee a day to zero with an occasional cup of decaf to get me through the shakes. I weaned myself slowly going from full blast to half-caf to decaf and then nada. I drank green tea for a while, mostly decaf, but got really tired of it. It is an uninspiring hot beverage and, according to my acupuncturist (yep, I've gone all crunchy granola these days), too cooling to the body. These days I'm allowing myself black tea or homemade chai with almond milk in the morning. It's caffeinated but pales in comparison to a grande dark roast. Product placement #1 - Lipton Yellow Label and Twinings English Breakfast.
Another change has been my full acceptance of the fact that I'm lactose intolerant. No more grilled cheese sandwiches with creamy soup. Worst of all, no more ice cream (well, a very occasional treat). It's remarkable how grateful my digestive system is. Product placement #2 - Almond milk. Any brand. Thank you.
The most difficult change has been avoiding gluten. I don't eat completely gluten free. I don't have the patience nor the ill-effects of a true gluten intolerance to inspire me. While I'm certainly not any shade of Celiac, I have learned that gluten is an inflammatory and is thought to affect fertility. And since my fertility is certainly affected, I thought I'd give going gluten-free (or gluten-limited) a whirl. I don't know if it's affected much of anything. If anything, it's kept me from being so carb dependent. I know that this is not a change I'll incorporate into the rest of my life but it gives me a sense of control for now. One of the hardest things about infertility is the feeling that you can't control your treatments and the outcome. Diet is one productive thing to grab hold of. And with that, product placement #3 - a shout out to Ancient Harvest quinoa spaghetti, Udi's Gluten-Free breads, Pamela's cookies, herb bread from Marie Catrib's of Grand Rapids, MI and rice crackers. Ok, looks like I'm just as carb dependent as before.
Finally, phyto-estrogens. This is sort of a minefield and one I choose not to drive myself crazy with. I've got plenty of crazy. Soy is a phyto-estrogen and can negatively impact your hormonal balance when consumed in large amounts. So I simply limit my tofu and soy milk intake. That's it.
Is any of this making a difference? Who knows. All of the changes I have made simply feel like healthy ones. I haven't lost any weight and have only seen digestive benefits. I'll spare you the details. Much of this won't all stay with me when infertility is behind me. I miss coffee and bagels too much. Together and separately. Coffee and bagels, I will come back. Just not yet.
What diet and lifestyle changes have you made to reach a goal, fertility related or otherwise?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)