Friday, June 22, 2007

Thyroid Secrets

Today I had my long awaited appointment with Dr. B. I write Dr. B. not to protect his identity but because I can't spell his last name. Dr. B is notable because he's not your run-of-the-mill OBGYN. He's Catholic, pro-life, won't prescribe artificial contraception and will order the little known "spit test" for girls like me who aren't healthy but appear to be.

I have a secret fear that many doctors I see think that I'm a hypochondriac because I have a long list of symptoms and no official disease. Over time I've stopped expecting a cure for my troubled ovaries but I still maintain hope that the rest of me can and will feel better if only I can find a doctor more interested in practicing medicine than pushing an agenda.

The appointment is one of the things I'm doing to get my body in shape to sustain a pregnancy. Of course I'm not taking the prenatal vitamins yet. I avoid doing what the books say I ought preferring the gnostic approach to health care and embracing the secret way that most doctors are too silly or stupid to know. I imagine that the practitioners of Scientology feel this way about Xenu.

Dr. B said to me today, "Well, they don't do the spit test much [in America]. Medicine is slow to change here. They do it in Europe though and it's very accurate." I know that he was telling the truth because the other day my husband told me that he read on The Drudge Report that in England they have developed a DNA log of citizens that they use to check against spit swabs collected from the sidewalk so they can send the offending spitters a ticket. Spit tests are, in fact, being done in Europe.

So, I took the spit test home and will do it tomorrow. I was gratified that Dr. B was able to tell me, given my litany of symptoms, that I have a troubled thyroid. Every doctor before this one has told me that my blood work is normal. Then they act like they're doing me a huge favor and give me a prescription for a tiny amount of synthroid or, when that stopped working, cytomel. I've always ended up taking myself off the meds and not returning to see the doctor after more than a hand full of visits because they seem to be interested only in whether or not I'm losing weight.

Doctor "Your weight looks unchanged. That's good."

Me "I've been experiencing some memory loss. Wasn't that supposed to stop?"

Doctor "Well the memory loss doesn't seem to have effected your weight so I wouldn't worry to much about it. Do you have any other questions?"

Me "Yes, actually, I do. Did you notice that clump of hair that just fell out of my head? Is that supposed to happen now that I'm on this medication?"

Doctor "Well, with the hair loss you may notice some fluctuations in your weight. If you notice a drastic change of more than say, 5 pounds, call us. OK?"

I'm concerned about getting my thyroid functioning properly, or at least getting it the support it needs, because it is very important during pregnancy. It helps sustain the pregnancy and gives mommies a much needed third trimester energy boost. I can attest to the fact that I felt GREAT during my third trimester.

Now I feel like a tree sloth.

Of course, some of that comes from the birth control horriblemones. Only 6 more days left of those nasty yellow beasties. Hooray. In about 15 days I'll get the results of the spit test. I have only good things in my future.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

NeCon Countdown

I'm just about 1 week away from no more NeCon. I'm thrilled.

NeCon, for those of you not in the know, is a form of artificial contraception. My doctor uses it to control my cycle, get it on a schedule so that I'll be ready for the embryo adoption when the time comes for that. I hate taking it. I hate the little plastic box it comes in. I hate what it does. I hate what it was made to do. I hate that I gain weight on it. I hate that no matter how full I feel, when I'm taking this pill, I will always want more potato chips, jelly bellies, peanut butter and chocolate ice cream. I hate that I get irritable and bossy and mean and bitchy. I hate that it makes me cry when I hear weepy music. I hate that it exists.

It's as if someone took sin and boiled it down, compressed it, dehydrated it, dyed it yellow and packed it in three neat rows of seven. As I metabolize it my heart begins to beat a little faster. My chest feels heavy. My mind starts to jump from worry to worry. My breathing becomes shallow and anxious. The effects continue through out the day. I'm twice as anxious if I'm put on the spot. I'm more critical, less patient, and absolutely exhausted all the time.

Before I started taking the NeCon I was a different person. I was pleasant, thoughtful, patient. I was happy. I was one pound away from my pre-baby weight. Birds chirped and perched on my fingers. Butterflies picked me flowers. Now I hide in my basement muttering to myself and talking to spiders. I take it faithfully because I want very much to save the life of a child. Ironic that the pill was designed to prevent children from being born, but I digress.

It's a mixed bag. On the one hand, I really can't wait for this hormonal experiment to be over. On the other hand, I desperately want my babies to live. So I wonder, is it worth it? Is it worth my life and my figure and a chunk of my sanity to save a couple of multi-celled microscopic "things"?

Yes. Yes. And yes.

And I need to remember to thank God more often for the privilege.

"If God causes you to suffer much it is a sign that He has great designs for you and that He certainly intends to make you a saint. And if you wish to become a great saint, entreat Him yourself to give you much opportunity for suffering; for there is no wood better to kindle the fire of holy love than the wood of the cross, which Christ used for His own great sacrifice of boundless charity. " St. Ignatius Loyola

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

A Quick Note on the MSNBC Interview on Stem Cell Research and EA

As an adoptive parent, it's incredibly frustrating to read articles about the attitudes of the majority of people regarding adoption. To sum up the attitude, and pardon me for being sensitive about this, better to kill the child than let me adopt him. This isn't an attitude that's exclusive to the abortion/ adoption issue. It also comes up over and over with embryo adoption and the "other choice" of donating the embryo to science.

Sarah Kliff wrote a Web exclusive interview for Newsweek appearing on MSNBC's webpage today, June 20, 2007. Kliff spoke with Ruth Faden, director of the Johns Hopkins Berman Institute of Bioethics

"How do you explain the preference for stem-cell research over adoption by another couple?

"In a companion qualitative study, we interviewed a smaller number of patients in depth. What was very interesting was getting an understanding of how they view the embryos that they have had cryo-preserved. They saw the embryos they created as emerging from their desire to have a baby. And they felt very strongly that if an embryo was ere permitted to become a child, they wanted to be and should be the parent. It's important, and I don't think we can over state this, to understand that this big policy debate is also a very private, personal choice for a lot of individual patients. It's a policy debate for the nation but a private decision for many couples who actually have these embryos cryo-preserved."

My note: Yes, as a parent, you often wonder, am I doing the right thing for my child. It's only fair to consider vivisection among those options.

MSNBC writes, "What currently happens to the frozen embryos of infertile couples?

"There are no national data about how many embryos are donated. There are data from the United Kingdom, where we know, for example, that over 3,000 embryos have been donated for research last year and about 230 were donated to other couples for adoption. We have no idea what the situation is in the United States because we keep no comparable records in this country."

My note: Did you catch that? There were over 3,000 embryos donated for research last year. Do you know what that means? Donated to die. Doesn't bother you? Well of those 230 who were allowed to be adopted, I can tell you that one of them is a very handsome, lively little boy who is thrilled to be alive.

What is it about adoption that is so distasteful to people? Images of mole-nosed old hags cooking children in giant soup pots are the stuff of fairy tales. Do people believe that's what adoptive parents are really like? Or is it just plain old selfishness. I don't want you to play with my toy so I'll break it. I mean, most 4-year-olds I know can't even justify that line of thinking. And yet, isn't that what it comes down to in the end?

I hear it all the time from third parties who know that I'm an adoptive parent and who are relating stories of abortion or embryos for science. "It's nothing personal. It's not against you. The parents just don't want anyone else to raise their kid." Better dead than... than what? Than my child? Damn right it's personal.

I will close with this, because it's always good to end on a high note. I appreciate all the more how great it is that we have been able to adopt nine embryos with more on the way. I am also very appreciative that Will's birthmother decided that his life was worth saving.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Introduction

When I write, I often have false starts. I usually have to scrap the entire thing and start over because the tone isn't right or I just haven't said what I started out to say. Life is full of these false starts too. I had a few before I found Mr. Right, who also happens to be Mr. Perfect, Mr. Fantastic, and Mr. Clean, sans the earring.

Once married, we had a few false starts as we planned our family. We wanted a family right away but for some reason the kids weren't popping out like we thought they would. So we thought we'd get a dog while we waited for God to work some baby dust into a dimple-kneed baby. False start with the dog. Think Cujo with super bad breath. Then, we decided Cujo was lonely so we got him a "friend," Gidget. Gidget was an even worse false start on the road to building our family. She had Frito Feet, as in feet that smelled like Fritos. Think of the overwhelming scent of Fritos you get upon opening the bag for the first time. That was the stench of her feet. She'd hide under our bed so at night we could smell her lovely stench as we put our head to pillow. It's no wonder no children were conceived while Princess Frito was with us.

We also had a false start when we decided to stop waiting for biological children and start the process of international adoption. Our first contry closed down soon after we started our paperwork. So we began looking at agencies and countries all over again. We settled on Russia.

The process was arduous but well worth it. When I say "process" I mean long, beurocratic nightmare wherein every single one of the one hundred pieces of paper you have to provide the foreign government must be hand-stamped by three different agencies within the foreign government and then sent to Moscow to be... oops, sent back to you because you forgot to sign the papers with your middle initial and now you have to get those papers resigned with proper middle inital, notarized, apostiled (you don't know this word unless you've adopted internationally), translated and shipped back to the three different agencies within the foreign government who all have to re-hand stamp the papers and then send them back to Moscow to be.... oops, Moscow just decided to hault all foreign adoptions for a few months as they reorganize their social service system because it's January.

Since our son came home to live with us, we haven't had any further false starts. We're the proud parents of ten children. Two live with us, Will and Mr. Cubby, and eight passed on to heaven. Those eight, plus Mr. Cubby, were adopted by us when they were embryos. It's a little misleading when I boast of my family of ten children. The good Catholic families I know are, at most, on kid #8 and they've been having kids for years. I feel good about what we've accomplished through God's blessing in just a few years.

I want to add that it broke my heart each time we lost children. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Mary, Joseph, Scholastica, and Benedict all hold a special place in our hearts and in our family life. Embryo adoption is not for the faint of heart. It is uncertain, painful, and draining - physically and emotionally. However, if it is something you feel you are called to do, it is a call that you can't ignore.

So, our second child was born as a result of embryo adoption. Maybe you've heard of it, maybe not. Suffice it to say, the embryos left over after IVF proceedures are not unwanted, nor are they incapable of living to and through birth. Mr. Cubby is a strong, healthy one-year old and former frozen embryo.

That brings us to today. Two weeks ago I started the drug regimen for our next embryo adoption. During that time I've had a few crazy moments because, I'll be honest, my body isn't keen on hormones of any sort. It doesn't like to make them and it doesn't like them introduced by pill or needle, especially not needle.

One of the crazy moments included me thinking that it would be a good idea to follow this embryo adoption through a blog. I didn't keep close track with my last pregnancy and I am wishing now that I had not only because my brain fog gets really bad with pregnancy but because I'm sure there will be other women considering embryo adoption, who would like a snapshot of how things may work for them.

So this is where I begin.