FIRST: THE JOURNEY & CHECKING IN

Xander and I left Rotterdam in the early in the evening on Tuesday January 17th to head for Brugge, Belgium.  We decided that instead of doing the 2.5 hour drive the morning of my surgery to check in at the hospital at 10:30am, that we would take our time and drive down the evening before, spend the night in the hotel where he would be staying and then take our time in the morning. This was the best decision we could have made because it gave me a chance to just relax.  Had we gotten up and been trying to navigate our way through Antwerp during rush hour, we both would have been stressed and that wouldn’t have done me any good going into the surgery.  We got to the hotel that evening, curled up in bed and watched a movie and just took it easy.

The next morning we got up and took our time.  The hospital was only a few minutes away so I laid in bed with my laptop watching some shows while trying not to think about things too much.  Then we got up and took my “before” photos (which I will share at some point, but not quite yet) and got ready to head out.  I was nervous but not nearly as nervous as I was expecting to be.  I was actually a little excited as I would be meeting two other women for the first time after communicating on our clinic’s forums and Facebook messages.  We were all there for the same surgery and were glad that we had new friends to go through the experience with.

They had both arrived before we did so their numbers were called first.  Each of them told me their room numbers before heading up and when my number was called to check in, I was thrilled to find out that I would be sharing a room with one of them!  I was, however, a bit confused as we were on the 7th floor and from what I’ve heard all bariatric patients stay either on the 3rd or 11th floor.

When I got to the room I realized what was going on, and what a pleasant surprise it was!  Due to the hospital being so busy, myself and Martine were placed in the maternity ward in one of the most beautiful with lots of space and even our own kitchenettes!

You’ll have to forgive the quality of the photos, I had only my mobile phone with me.

This was my bed for the duration of my stay.  At the bottom of the photo you can see the dining table that was a part of my kitchenette.  My roommate’s side of the room was a mirror image of mine, with her bed facing me on the opposite side of the room and her kitchenette to the left of my bed (and mine to the left of hers).  It was such a great setup and with a long curtain to section off the room we had the choice of having it open and chatting or being able to close it to have a bit of privacy during the night or times when we just weren’t particularly in the mood to be social (which didn’t happen much at all really, we quite enjoyed each other’s company!)

This was my kitchenette and closet area.  There was a small fridge, sink with cold water, coffee maker and microwave.  You can see my TV above but I didn’t use that a lot as I had my laptop with TV shows I’d downloaded and saved to watch while I was there.   I specifically saved shows that I loved most so that it would help me pass the time.  Xander loved having the kitchenette while he was there as he could make himself coffee and keep stuff he swiped from the hotel buffet in my little fridge.

This little glass room was just to the right of my bed, which ordinarily is used for keeping the babies in.  Apparently that’s not how it is done in the Netherlands. According to Martine they are kept by your bed after giving birth, but maybe this is meant to give the mothers a chance to have some quiet and get some rest… I’m not sure.

Martine and I both took the fact that we were placed in the maternity ward together as a sign, as we both were having the surgery to lose weight because we were having difficulty getting pregnant.  We liked to think that the universe was trying to tell us something.

As you can see we also had a very comfortable reclining chair next to our beds, which our husbands made good use of!

I didn’t take photos of the room in its entirety because Martine and her family were on the other side and I wanted to respect their privacy.  It was a beautiful, big room though and we were both so happy to have it all to ourselves!

We also had our own big private bathroom, which a lot of rooms don’t have. On other floors there are shared showers in the hall, but we had our own shower cabin with massage jets and the whole nine yards.  I’m wishing I’d taken photos of that now in hindsight.

This was the view out of our window.  As you can see the weather was rather crap for some of our stay, but we did see some sun.  Not that it mattered, neither one of us spent that much time hanging around looking out the window!

THE WAIT

We arrived in the room at I guess between 11:00 – 11:30 am and we were both a bit nervous.  When the nurses came in to check our blood pressure and everything I made sure to tell them how dreadfully nauseated I was after my gallbladder surgery.  They marked it down and told me they would make sure to let them know so that they could try to prevent it this time around.  When they came back around noon I also asked if they knew when I’d be operated on and they said I would be going in at 3:50pm in the afternoon.  I groaned because I was already starving and dying of thirst, having not eaten since 6pm the night before and not being able to even drink water after 8am that morning.   I can’t even imagine how Martine felt when they told her she wouldn’t be operated on until 7:30pm that evening!  Well, no I could imagine because she groaned loudly and said exactly how she felt about it! haha

I had over three hours to kill in that hospital room before my surgery and I tried my best to keep my nerves at bay.  I unpacked my suitcase, took some photos and sat on my bed doing some deep breathing.  I really wanted to go into this with a positive attitude and made a point of reminding myself again and again that it was all temporary, that it was all going to go by in a flash and it was just a tiny blip in this entire process.  This really did help from keeping that agonizing fear of the pain and unknown from sending me into a total tailspin.

TIME TO GO

As luck would have it, I didn’t end up spending over three hours trying to calm myself at all because no sooner did the nurses leave, but then they were right back again with a gown telling me to get changed and get in the bed, because my time had come!  The nerves came over me like a tidal wave but I had no time to worry about it… I went in the bathroom and stripped off to get into my gown.  What the heck was going on?  Why was I being taken down a half hour later rather than 3.5 hours like they said?  When I asked later I was told it was because the surgeon’s plans often change due to people not realizing things like they can’t smoke or drink before the surgery.

I got in the bed and the two young nurses came to wheel me out.  I could tell that Xander was trying not to cry but after a quick kiss they wheeled me out of there before either of us really had a chance to get emotional.  They were very sweet on the way down to the surgery, making small talk and trying to keep my mind off things.  I was feeling surprisingly calm at that point though as I knew it was too late to turn back and was trying to keep a steady stream of positive thoughts going through my head.  I was happy to be going in sooner rather than later, as it was less time for me to sit around letting the tension build.

They took me down to what I can only assume was the basement and left my bed in a corner.  I was all by myself in this weird space with a TV and some children’s DVD’s, a door that had plastic and orange construction tape all around it.  Definitely a change from the beautifully modern hospital that sat above it… and I must admit, not the best view when waiting to go into surgery.  It felt more like I was being taken down to a dungeon somewhere rather than a surgery theater.

A woman came along and spoke very quickly with a mask over her mouth, which was a bit of a problem for me.  I can get by decently in Dutch but in Belgium the language is different and it takes a massive amount more concentration for me to follow, especially in a situation like that where my mind has so many thoughts going through it at once.  She asked me (the same as 3-4 people before her) my name, what I was there for and if I’d eaten or had anything to drink that day.  She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry and a real no nonsense type so I just answered and then hoped she’d go away.

Soon after another lady arrived with a different bed and asked me to scoot over to that one.  The first lady said something to her and then I heard (like the sound of angels singing!!) the second lady exclaiming in a British accent “Oh you speak English!!”.  HAAAAALLELUJAH!!  Turns out she is British and an expat like me.  I could have kissed her!   She explained that she was the anesthetic nurse and would be assisting in my surgery.  She did all of the prep work, asked me a lot of questions and got me ready for when the anesthetist showed up.  We chatted a lot which, again, did a lot to help settle my nerves.   She asked if Dr. Dillemans (my surgeon) had been to see me yet and I told her he hadn’t, so she got on the phone and told him to get his butt down there.  The nurses had already explained his insane schedule so I wasn’t all that surprised.

It wasn’t long after that the anesthetist showed up and asked me the same round of questions.  I figured if I was going to keep answering their questions repeatedly I’d repeatedly tell them about how sick I was at my last surgery.  He told me that I would be given something before I woke up and that it would all be good.  He also agreed that the amount of pain meds that I was given after my gallbladder surgery may have attributed to the amount of nausea I had.  I was determined that when I woke up this time that I would take a beat and give myself time to come to my senses before giving any indication of my pain levels.  When I had my gallbladder surgery it was my first ever, so when I woke up I was terrified of the pain I was feeling and kept asking for more and more pain relief… to the point of them having to all the anesthetist back as they’d already surpassed what the nurses were allowed to give me.

Once they had my IV in and were done asking me all those questions for the millionth time, they hung around chatting and joking with me until Dr. Dillemans arrived.  I particularly liked their jokes about how if I found him handsome it was probably just the drugs!  You see, Dr. Dillemans has a bit of a reputation for being quite the charmer!

Next thing I knew, he had arrived… he called me Sarah which made me give a big inner “PFFF” (Sarah, Tammy… I guess all those North American names are the same to them), told me I was in good hands, patted my hand and then it was a total blur.  They were putting a mask over my face, telling me to breathe deeply and that it might make me dizzy, putting a needle in my arm, with stuff that burned like a mofo going in my hand and up to my elbow and then… LIGHTS OUT!!

WAKING UP

The next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room.  Much like when I had my previous operation, I woke up feeling like I was under a truck.  I was very groggy, my entire body was trembling, like big huge shakes (especially my legs) and the first thought to go through my mind was “PAIN DRUGS PAIN GIVE ME DRUGS” but thankfully I remembered not to say it out loud.  The nurse was very friendly and told me that the surgery went great and asked me how I was feeling.  I responded that I didn’t know yet, that I would need a minute.  She pulled the blanket down and unfolded my arms which were crossed over my upper belly, explaining not to hold them there because the pressure would cause me pain.  I had just woken up and assumed someone had placed my arms there as I wasn’t able to really move them on my own yet.

She told me to try to take some nice deep breaths so I said I would and she went off to check on someone else.  As I laid there I slowly tried to inhale, remembering that I’d heard that the deep breaths will help work that dreadful gas (that they pump into you to blow up the cavity in your belly so they can work) out of your system.  It hurt like a SOB but I kept trying to make one deep breath after another.

I looked slowly from side to side, taking in what was going on around me.  I was in a long room filled with beds, which opened up into the hallway they wheeled me through from the dungeon corridor to the surgery.  The place was chalk full of patients, with beds even lined up along the hallway.  I was lucky and had the nurses station right at the foot of my bed so I at least had something to watch while getting myself together.

There was an older man on my left hand side who didn’t seem to be dealing with things very well. He kept trying to pull things out and move around and get up and there was a nurse with him constantly talking to him and trying to keep him calm.  My brain wasn’t together enough to even try to figure out what either of them were saying but I really wondered who he was and what he had done to him.  Whatever it was, he was not a happy camper at all.

After laying there a while and waking up a bit more, much as I suspected, the pain was bad but bearable.  Once I got over that initial shock after just waking up it was ok.  So when the nurse came back to check on me I told her I was fine and just continued to lay there.  It wasn’t long before I saw her pointing to me and the two young nurses were back again to take me back to my room.

When I arrived back in my room Xander was there and was eager to see me.  I think he was surprised at how alert I was because I was so out of it after my last surgery that I ended up just asking him to leave.  I noticed that Martine and her bed were gone and they told me that she was brought down shortly before and was being operated on just after me.  I was glad for her that she was also getting it over with because sitting there waiting until 7:30pm wasn’t going to be any fun at all.

I had a chance to lay there and really assess how I was feeling.  The most annoying pain after any laparoscopic surgery, from what I can tell from my two experiences with it, is the gas I mentioned.  As this gas is working its way up out of your body it irritates the CRAP out of the nerves in your shoulders.   So while I did have a fair amount of pain in my upper abdomen, what I remember being most painful was the jabbing pains in my shoulders.  My upper belly felt very sore and tight but it was more of a deep constant pain.  The shoulders didn’t hurt constantly but rather when I moved and then settled again it felt like someone was stabbing me in the shoulder and chest, and THAT was bloody annoying.

While I was laying there Xander took this photo of me to send to my mother to let her know I got out of surgery, was alert and doing fine.  Well first he took this one:

… but he said I looked psycho with my weird wave and green crap all over my face (apparently the green crap is stuff they put down into your stomach to check for leaks after the surgery).

He mom-thumbed (licking his thumb and trying to wipe the green stuff off) me before taking the non psycho wave photo, but I mean really… neither photo is anything to write home about.   I look pretty darn hideous in both… but hey, I’m trying to keep it real here.

So that was it, my surgery was over.  It was all said and done!!  Now the real fun was about to begin… starting with the rest of my hospital stay, more on that soon!

Related posts:

1. Dr. Oz on Gastric Bypass
2. My Mini Surgery!
3. Confessions of a Fat Girl: The Last Resort

For now, I just want to share some videos that I found really interesting.  Everyone seems to rave about this Dr. Oz, so when I came across these videos today, I just had to share.  In the videos he explains exactly what Gastric Bypass surgery is, why it’s not a cop out or the easy way, why it has such a bad stigma and why more people who are eligible for the surgery and would benefit from it aren’t doing it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not like YAY! Everyone run out and have surgery RIGHT NOW!! but I have had a lot of people who are considering surgery asking me questions over the past few months, and while everyone in my life has been incredibly supportive, I know not everyone is as lucky as I have been in that regard.

Weight Loss Surgery DOES have a stigma attached to it, and I think it’s sad that it stops many people (the way it almost stopped me) from getting the help they need.  People are ashamed, afraid of what their friends and family will think of them and instead of getting help and getting their health under control, they just continue to spiral.

AGAIN, I’m not saying this surgery is the answer for everyone…  just that I wish there wasn’t such a horrible stigma to it.  As I said, I have wonderful friends and family and I STILL worried, because people, in general, feel and think so many bad things about weight loss surgery… so imagine what it’s like for the person who doesn’t have the kind of support in their lives that I have had…

Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Getting: Part 1
Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Getting: Part 2
Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Having: Part 3
Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Having: Part 4
Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Having: Part 5

I guess I’m just hoping that by being open about this myself, and sharing videos like these, that if people who read this have someone in their lives who is considering this surgery, they will stop and think before making comments about the easy way, the lazy way, or immediately start in with the horror stories they’ve heard.  There is so much to it than that and those things really aren’t what that person needs.  Concern is fine, that’s just showing you care.  The rest, it’s just unnecessary.

Related posts:

1. My Gastric Bypass: The Surgery

Ok, well it looks like this is becoming a bit of a series, this whole Confessions thing.  I’ve been trying to be as honest and open as possible about my efforts to lose weight, as well as about my issues with infertility.  I think the greater part of my reason for it is because it makes me feel better to get it all out.  I also continue to do it because I know that there are other people out there, like me, who find it helpful when others open up about their experiences. If reading my story can help inform someone or, at the very least, let them know they aren’t alone, then that’s a great reason too.

Anyway, let’s get down to the reason why I’m writing today.  There’s no leading up to this and I’ve found that the best way to do it is the tried and true ripping off the bandaid approach.

I am going to have weight loss surgery.  On January 18th, 2012 I am having gastric bypass surgery, which is shown in the video below, for those who don’t know what it is.

Ok, now it’s out there, there is no turning back.  I know some of you already know this, but many don’t and I’m sure for those people it has come as a bit of a shock to your system but that’s ok.  It was a bit of a shock to mine as well!

If you had asked me this time last year where I’d be right now, I would have said that I’d have all of my weight off and be about to start IVF.  I was after losing 85 pounds, feeling great and was well on my way to reaching my goals.  I would have puffed my chest out and exclaimed that NOTHING was getting in my way, I was a woman on a mission and I was kicking ass and taking names.

That was before this happened, before the fertility treatments began, before the hormones, stress, and disappointment that came along with the six months of fertility treatments.  I had totally underestimated the toll that would take on me and how difficult it would make losing weight.  Hell, how difficult it would be to keep the weight I’d already lost off… because I am an emotional eater and this was one of the most emotional experiences I have been through.  I wish I didn’t, and I’ve tried to change it over the years, but food has always equaled comfort for me.  So when I was loaded with hormones and dying with anticipation and anxiety over whether I had gotten pregnant that month, I ate.  When I realized I wasn’t pregnant again that month, I was sad, angry, and disappointed…. so I ate.

In the last year I have tried time and time again to get back on track and find that strength I had the year before.  I’d do detox after detox, tried having my doctor send me to another dietitian and still I couldn’t seem to make it happen.  Instead of continuing to lose the weight, I gained back half of what I lost and it felt horrible.

The thing is, I know many people feel that if you want something badly enough you just do it.  How I wish it were that simple, and I think if it were the world wouldn’t have the obesity problems it has today.  Nobody WANTS to be overweight, nobody wants to have the health issues that come along with it or to be made fun of and have their self esteem trampled into the dirt.  Nobody wants that.

In my experience (and I fully admit this may just be me) I have found that the more I had riding on this, the more difficult it became.  My biological clock has been ticking VERY loudly and not only my chances of having children, but also my husband’s, relied on me losing weight.  That’s a lot of pressure and that pressure and stress turned out to not be a motivation for me, but an obstacle.  It was constantly there nagging at me and stressing me out.

Weight loss surgery was first suggested to me by my gynecologist in 2006 and let me tell you, I did NOT take kindly to that suggestion at all.  I was furious that she would even suggest that to me because I’d started losing weight on my own and was convinced that I could get it done.  That was one of many times in the past six years when I was convinced I was going to get it done on my own.

Over the years I’ve tried the general eat less move more method, Weight Watchers, Low Carbing and everything in between.  Generally I’d lose 25-30 lbs and then whatever would happen, whether it was a family member dying back home, other family issues, winter blues or whatever, I would then turn around and gain it back… and then some.  Which lead to the great scale disaster of 2008, when I stepped on and realized I weighed over 300 lbs.

How fucking embarrassing it still is to say that.

As I said, I thought the recent 85 lb weight loss was really going to be it, as I’d gone further than I ever have, but it wasn’t, and what can I do about it now after letting another year slip by and gaining half of it back?

The weight loss surgery was given to me as an option by both my fertility specialist and my family doctor over the years. They didn’t really push it on me, rather just let me know it was there.  Every time I’d hold my hand up and tell them no.  I mean weight loss surgery?!   Were they out of their freaking minds?!!  When I declined they would do whatever they could, whether it was sending me to a weight loss program that paid for a gym membership, or to a new dietitian, they really did try to help motivate me and give me what I needed to try to lose the weight.

Looking back, I think the one thing we should have done, but didn’t, was see a therapist about WHY I am an emotional eater, and try to solve those problems. I think that would have gone a long way to helping me finally beat this issue once and for all.  Oh but we all know about hindsight…

After recent talks with my doctor, and the new dietitian (who I absolutely ADORE) together we have come to the following conclusions:

1. I will be 37 years old in a few months, and once I hit 40 any chances I have of having IVF are over.

2. After 35 years of age, the success rate with IVF pretty much drops by half every year.

3. After the re-gain, for me to now get to the HIGHEST weight acceptable for IVF (which also means the weight that gives me the lowest chance of success) it would take me 12-15 months.  I would still be considered overweight, still be hovering around the 200 lb mark and while I would be ALLOWED to have IVF by slipping in under the line… when taking my age and weight into consideration, my chances of getting pregnant would be very very low.

4. In that 12-15 months, with the surgery, I could not only get to a weight to be allowed to have IVF but surpass that and reach a much lower and healthier weight.  This would not only increase my chances of conceiving greatly, but put me in a much better position for a healthy pregnancy if I’m lucky enough to have one at all.

5. If, heaven forbid, the IVF doesn’t work, I won’t still be seriously overweight, emotional and trying to move on. I will hopefully have much fitter body, better outlook on life and feel more energetic and motivated to move on with life, free of FAT and INFERTILITY, for the first time in as long as I can remember.

6. I HAVE tried on my own, for YEARS. I have done the work, I’ve fought the fight and really made an honest to goodness effort to do this on my own, that is something nobody will ever be able to accuse me of, not trying my hardest on my own.  As much as I’d like to THINK I could get this done on my own over the next year, I thought that last year as well and I was in a much better position then.  I was 40 lbs lighter than I am now and felt a million times better.

7. If I don’t decide to take this leap now, and a year from now haven’t managed to get the weight off on my own, it may be too late.  As my doctors said, I’m at a critical point now in regards to my weight and age.  If I turn down the surgery now, and in a year still haven’t gotten the weight off, I risk missing my window completely… because when factoring in waiting and recovery periods with the surgery, it will be too late.  I wouldn’t be able to get it all done in time to still slip in under the age limit for the IVF.

This is not a decision I’ve made lightly, nor is it something I am taking lightly.  I don’t view the surgery as a fix for anything and I’m fully aware that unless I DO sort out my issues with food and do the work that I’ll eventually just gain all the weight back.  I know all the risks and rewards and have basically dedicated the past few months of my life to this.  I’ve been gathering info on the different surgeries available, visiting the clinic, speaking and visiting with people who have had or are going to have surgery, learning more about food and eating after the surgery and talking extensively about this with my close family and friends.

I have also been working hard to set up a support system for myself.  I’ve been trying to get to know other people who have been or are being treated by the same clinic, I’ve gone to one of their meetings and that was incredibly helpful and gave me a lot of insight.  I have a few friends who have done this and they’ve been wonderfully supportive and I’m currently working on getting set up with a therapist (outside of the one I see in the after care program from the clinic) to really dig deep and help me once and for all put an end to my dysfunctional relationship with food.

Basically, if I’m going to take this drastic step, I feel like I have to really do the work to make sure it sticks, because it’s really not a place I ever thought I’d be in my life.  Weight loss surgery was something I never thought I’d even consider because I had a lot of the same opinions other people who have never faced it have… it’s the easy way out, the lazy way out, weight loss surgery is for losers who can’t be arsed to do it on their own.

Boy, let me tell you… has my opinion changed since I have had to stare this beast face to face.  It’s anything but easy.  In fact, it’s going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  It’s a massive life change, it’s going to be painful at times, sad at times and I’m sure there will be a few screaming fits in the mix along the way… but I’m hopeful that one day it will be worth it.

I won’t lie, I’m scared to death.  I’m scared of the surgery, the time in the hospital, making the huge changes that are required, how people are going to react to me doing this, of possibly gaining the weight back someday, of complications or crappy side effects (like losing hair, ugh!) and a million other things.

That said though, I am confident in my decision and I know that this is the right choice for me at this time.  It wasn’t six years ago, it wasn’t four years ago and it wasn’t this time last year… but it is now.  I will be operated on by Dr. Bruno Dillemans in Brugge Belgium, who is one of the top bariatric surgeons in the world, so that is very comforting.  The reason the surgery is taking place in Belgium is because I am having it done via a private clinic outside Amsterdam, rather than one of the hospitals in Rotterdam.  The waiting period for the surgery at the hospitals in Rotterdam is between 9-12 months, which when you factor in the 12 months I’ll need to set aside after the surgery for the weight loss, is too long in my situation.  Thankfully my insurance company forwarded me to this clinic which has only a 3 month waiting period.   The super surgeon is an added bonus.

I have waited until almost the last minute to write about this because I wanted to tell the people who are closest to me and I wanted to give myself time to process it and be confident and secure enough to deal with everyone’s questions and reactions.  I was very insecure about this in the beginning, I felt like a total failure and like I WAS giving up, but I don’t feel that way anymore.  I know that if all I wanted was an easy or lazy way out I would have jumped at the chance one of the many times it was mentioned to me over the last six years.  I also don’t think I have failed, I managed to lose 85 lbs, which is something a lot of people can’t do at all, let alone with as much riding on it as I have had.  I have tried my hardest to do this on my own and I no longer see this as a failure, rather just choosing another path that gives me the greatest chance of achieving my goals.

Another reason I feel comfortable enough to be open about this now is because of how unbelievably supportive and understanding my close friends and family have been.  In the beginning I was terrified to tell people for fear of how they’d react but everyone has been so understanding and supportive.  Sure, they are worried for me as it is a major surgery and a life changing event, but like me they are hopeful that whether the IVF works or not, that in the end this will all lead to me having a healthier, happier and more productive life.  Even those that I thought would have a sort of *shock horror* response have not had that at all, quite the opposite actually and their support has meant the world to me.

I will have the surgery on January 18th and I’ve been sure to make no big plans for the first few months of the year, as there is quite a long recovery period and I won’t be working on a lot of calories in the beginning so I won’t have a lot of energy. So for those nearby please don’t be offended if I am a bit scarce for a while, hopefully I’ll be back in action soon!  You are all welcome to come by for a visit though!!

Well, that’s all my news!  I’m going to stop now as this has, in true Canadutch style, turned into a total novel.  I know I’ll re-read this and there will be 100 little bits of info I’d wish I’d included but I’m going to try to restrain myself!

Related posts:

1. Confessions of a Fat Girl
2. Confessions of a Fat Girl: Fat and Feminine?
3. The Fat Lady

The gist is, the overweight lady on the bottom of the ad has a website that caters to chubby chasers, people who like big women.  She has photos for sale on her website and Ashley Madison, the company that is being called out in the article, bought the photo and paid a license for it.  Now, this gives them the right to use the photo in whatever way they want… but the model is up in arms about it and is (supposedly) very angry about what it represents.

She’s angry because her photo was used to slam fat people.  She said that by using the photo in that manner, they are ‘body shaming’ women who are overweight, and I have to agree with her.  From what I gather there were multiple ads and the general idea of all of them was that if your wife scares and disgusts you, why not have an affair with someone thin and beautiful.

She also didn’t like the fact that her photo was used in ads that are urging men to have affairs.  She didn’t want her photo on an ad that promoted adultery.  Fair enough.

The representative for Ashley Madison argues that the publicity that came from all of it his is the best thing that could have happened for the overweight model and her website, stating that she is probably not angry at all, but is using this as a ploy to gain more publicity for herself, also possible.

As a married, overweight woman I have mixed feelings about this entire fiasco.

Firstly, this woman is taking seductive photos of herself in very little clothing and putting them online for sale. By selling them and having people pay licensing fees, she is aware of the fact that once the photos are bought and paid for, they are no longer under her control. So in that sense, it’s her own fault and the company can’t be held to blame, it was their legal right to use the photo, regardless of the questionable nature of the ads.

I am not one of those big women who supports the whole ‘big is beautiful’ movement.  I agree that people should try to feel good about themselves regardless of their weight, and that self confidence is important.  I don’t believe that, even though many of us do, overweight people should live a life of shame.  On the other hand, I don’t think that being extremely overweight is anything to celebrate either.  I don’t believe it’s anything to be proud of or promote as a fun or healthy lifestyle.

I think the model put herself out there for that purpose, she had a website that was dedicated to the theme of being obese.  Even if it was meant to be for pleasure, she couldn’t be that naive.  There is no way she couldn’t know that by selling these kinds of photos of herself to the open public, that something like this could happen.  Common sense would tell you that for every one person out there on the internet that loves fatties, there are 4000 who don’t, and who would rather point fingers and ridicule.  So with that in mind, I don’t understand why she didn’t have a website, have members pay to join it and keep all the rights to the photos to herself.  At least then she’d have a legal leg to stand on in this case.  So for that, I have very little pity for her in regards to the use of the photo.

As for the idea that the ad is ‘body shaming’ overweight women, I suppose she’s right.  There are women out there who will look at the ad and wonder if they’ve let themselves go too much.  They will wonder what their spouse will think of these ads if they see them and worry that perhaps they might end up being cheated on.  In the end they will feel worse about themselves and feel more shame about their bodies than they had before they saw it.

Now, maybe I am the naive one now but I am not one of those women.  Yes, I am overweight and that does cause some insecurities within myself and how I view myself sexually, but do I think an ad like this is going to make my husband love me less or more inclined to cheat on me?  God no… then again, I wasn’t a size two when he married me either, so that may make a difference.  Regardless, I don’t think seeing an ad like this would make him suddenly want to cheat, nor would it suddenly make him the type to pay for sex, which is basically what you’d be doing with a company like that.  It’s not going to change who he is. If a man is going to cheat, he’s going to do so for any number of reasons, and it’s in his nature no matter what ads he sees or doesn’t see.  He may cheat with a girl at work, with someone he shares a hobby with or a stranger he meets on a bus.  If he’s the type that wants it the easy way and wants to pay for it, he will FIND a way to do so.  Seeing an ad like this isn’t going to change who a person is or give them an entirely different set of values… if a man sees the ad and calls this company, it was in him long before he saw the ad, they just gave him the outlet.

Does it suck that companies like this exist?  Absolutely, it’s disgusting.  That said, I have to acknowledge that there is a market out there for it and that the people who created the company were very clever to do so.  Even if I disagree with what they are doing on a moral standpoint, I can still see why it exists… because there IS money to be made on it.  Men don’t cheat because this company exists, the entire idea of that is absurd, they are going to do it regardless… only now there are people out there who are willing to make money on their bad decisions.  More power to them, I say.

In the end, I still think the company is horrid (though clever) and I think the model, however understandable her feelings may be in regards to their use, got what she was asking for by selling her photos in the first place.

I also agree that the model clearly had no problem putting herself out there on the internet, and selling the photos without knowing the purpose they were being used for.  So the idea that she is using her ‘outrage’ about these ads as a way to gain more publicity for herself is quite believable.

A lot of people who are overweight will look at his and be furious and quickly jump to the side of the model. I mean the people behind the adultery company don’t have a lot of redeeming qualities to draw you to their side, except maybe their keen business sense… but this is the internet, and things aren’t so black and white here.  I think both are on shaky ground and share the blame equally.  There is no innocent party here, and they are both getting what they paid for, so to speak.

What do you think?

P.S. I didn’t link to the company or the model. I just can’t stomach giving either of them any more publicity than they already have.

Related posts:

1. Confessions of a Fat Girl: Fat and Feminine?
2. Confessions of a Fat Girl
3. Confessions of a Fat Girl: The Last Resort

I was a bit worried about how it was all going to go.  I wanted the hormones out of my system so I could feel normal again, and it worked. Once they were gone I felt much more myself, the clouds in my head started to part and I was happy again. Well, as happy as I could be at that time.

The problem is, it was like I went into a sort of denial. I just didn’t think about it.  I didn’t have to go to the hospital, I didn’t have to take any medication, I didn’t have hormones blasting through me and I wasn’t having any treatments.  I was just me, living life and not thinking about hospitals or babies.

I even started eating the way I should and lost 8 lbs in the first 1.5 weeks, I was feeling great!

That was, until I went to the hospital for my ‘checking in’ appointment. The one where we were to sit down and discuss exactly what the plan is from here.  I knew generally what the plan was but there were a few details we needed to iron out.  Mainly, exactly how much weight I had to lose and what treatments we’d be doing when the weight is gone.  They want me to do three more IUI with more weight off to see if my chances improve, and if that doesn’t work then move on to IVF.  Which means possibly having as many treatments again as I’ve just had… and that felt like it went on forever.

It was almost like I had post traumatic stress disorder or something.  From the minute I got in the car I could feel myself getting anxious.  I didn’t want to go, I wanted to stay home and blissfully avoid thinking about it… but I couldn’t, we had to figure these things out and make a plan.

When I walked through the doors of the hospital my anxiety levels went through the roof.  I got this weird feeling like my insides were shaking.  Like my body was still but all my organs were shivering.  I don’t know if I’m the only one that happens to but it’s a bizarre and uncomfortable feeling that just got worse the longer I was there.

It was raining that day and Xander dropped me off at the door.  As I stood inside the entrance waiting for him, a woman walked through the door.  She was heavily pregnant and I just couldn’t stop staring.  I’m sure she’s probably used to, at least I hope so, because I just couldn’t look away.  It was then that it all hit me… before that I was anxious and felt strange but my mind was still reasonably functional. When I saw that woman, I felt like Wile E. Coyote getting crushed by my own ten-ton boulder.  I suddenly felt this crushing weight coming down on me and it was hard to breathe.  It hit me… THAT is why I am here, I remember now.  Not that I forgot, it just wasn’t as fresh and raw in my mind until I got that reminder.

I tried to work through it and not let it show as Xander came in and we made our way up to the gynecology department.  Thankfully the waiting room was empty and we didn’t even wait five minutes… but during our appointment I could hardly think because I was working so hard to stop myself from crying.  It was the same as we stood at reception waiting for them to sort out blood work papers and follow-up appointments.  All I could think was, type faster… please just give me my card so I can leave before I embarrass myself!  Honestly, I hardly spoke and Xander made all the arrangements.

I couldn’t get out of the hospital quick enough, it was like there was no air in the building and I was rushing for the doors just to be able to catch my breath.  When I got to the car I fell to pieces… I cried and sobbed while saying how I didn’t even understand why I was crying at all, I didn’t know what was wrong with me.  I guess I wasn’t as ‘over it’ as I thought I was.

It was probably silly of me to think I would be.  It was a long and difficult year for me so far and I should have known that just stopping the hormones wasn’t going to suddenly make everything better.  I was just eager to get back to my normal life without all of this surrounding me every day and didn’t take the time to deal with my feelings about everything.

I know now why I had the reaction I did, because it was a cold hard slap of reality.  It made me realize that it’s not over.  Not even close. In fact, depending on how many more treatments I need to have, I’m not even half through.  When you factor in the time I’m going to have to spend trying to lose more weight, I’m not even 1/3 of the way through.  I don’t have a break at all, there is no break, there is only hard work, stress and an incredible amount of pressure.

All of a sudden that blissful avoidance came to a screeching halt and panic and depression took over.  Losing weight is so hard even in the best of situations, having this sort of pressure and feeling like our entire lives depend on it makes it so much more difficult.  I’m an emotional eater, I always have been, and how do I lose weight when I am feeling this way?  For the past week I’ve been in a total funk, I’ve been eating things I know I shouldn’t and hating myself for it… which, of course, just makes me feel worse.  It’s a spiral and I am spinning around screaming inside of it.

I think a part of me is angry. I’m angry that I spent 6 months of my life NOT losing weight… and all for nothing.  I went through all those treatments, the months of hormone insanity and I have nothing to show for it.  My weight is now what it was in October of last year, and when I think of the weight I COULD be at if I hadn’t had those treatments, it pisses me off!

I also think a part of me is scared.  I want to lose weight to look and feel good, but there is a small part of me that dreads … DREADS… even the idea of starting the medications, emotional turmoil and poking and prodding again.  So maybe I am somehow subconsciously sabotaging myself by stuffing my face and not losing the weight I should be right now?

I don’t know.  All I know is that I’m struggling, mentally and physically.  I’m struggling to find the strength to get over this next hurdle of losing the weight.  I’m afraid that I am going to spend even more time fighting and working towards a goal that may never happen.   If I feel this way now, how angry am I going to be a year from now when it’s all over and I possibly have nothing to show for it?

I know what I have to do.  I have to go through the dreaded detox period of my diet again.  I need to get the sugar and cravings out of my system, find the strength to give myself the boundaries I used to have and get the weight off once and for all.  I also need to learn how to deal with people who criticize my choice of diet and actively try to convince me that I should be eating things like ice cream and cake, because it’s fun.  They don’t understand the pressure I am under and while I know some part of them must mean well, I really wonder would they ask an alcoholic to just have a few shots with them… because it’s fun and they should be enjoying life.

Anyhow, I can’t say that today is going to be the day I make the change.  Maybe it won’t even be tomorrow, or Sunday.  I’m going to get there though.  I’ve found the motivation and strength to do it before, it’s just a little harder now because I have some mental shit I need to sort through before I can take this on.

For now, I consider my first step just acknowledging the fact that I’m struggling rather than avoiding it and hoping it magically sorts itself out.  I know I’m in trouble and I need to get my head on straight, so that will be what I work on first.  Coming to terms with the fact that this is a much more long and difficult road than I thought I was going to be on. Dealing with my feelings of disappointment and anger, which are pretty huge right now.

Then I can deal with the diet…

For now, this will be my theme song, it really hits home with me because it’s exactly how I feel at the moment.  I made my first step, I acknowledged and admitted that I’m struggling. I’ve made it 99…

Related posts:

1. Gonna Get My Hump On
2. A Well Deserved Break. Well, Sorta.
3. 30 Days of Truth: Day 29

Ummm, yeah.  This is a lie.  Well, it wasn’t a lie when I first wrote it now but I can’t leave it on there without feeling like I’m telling a fib.

A while back I wrote a post about how I felt that my being overweight affected my feeling of femininity, which was quite difficult for me to write because not only was it slightly embarrassing but it required a little bit of soul searching as well.  I always knew I didn’t feel feminine but I wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t until I started losing the weight that I put two and two together and made the connection.

In that post I was talking about my acrylic nails, which I loved.  Oh how I loved them.  I decided they would be my reward to myself for losing weight and one of my first steps into accepting that more girlie side of myself.  Unfortunately, due to the affect the hormones treatments were having, the weight loss stopped.  It also started to get a little expensive for me to keep having my nails done… so I decided it was best if I removed them.  I partly didn’t feel like I deserved the ‘reward’ since I wasn’t still losing weight but the main problem was about cost.

The thing is, I really loved having pretty nails so I decided to start trying to do them myself and see what I could come up with.  Before I knew it I was hooked!  Uh oh, I DO live for nail polish!  So that means that on my About Me page I am a big lying liar! haha

Not just that, but with the weight loss I also realized that none of the clothes I’d bought last summer fit me anymore.  Which was good, but also not good because I didn’t want to have to buy an entirely new wardrobe.  I did have to buy some new clothes though, and I thought what better time to try something new!  For the first time in years, I bought leggings… and a dress.  Yes, you heard me right.  A dress!

I wore it… and felt silly.

I wore it again… and felt slightly less silly.

I got one or two more outfits like this and I wore them and felt increasingly less silly.

I admit, each of the times I wore it I was a little paranoid about the size of my legs, because that is one area that isn’t showing a drastic change after the weight loss.  I’m still quite big in my butt, thighs and legs… so wearing stuff like this really tests my strength in regards to my body issues.  Every part of me wants to NOT wear these outfits, EVEN THOUGH they are incredibly comfortable and cool in the warm weather.  The insecure, paranoid, body issue freak inside me would rather sweat to death than wear something that might make someone mentally point and laugh when I walk by.

I didn’t give in though, because deep down as much as I worry about my legs, or about my flabby arms when I wear a tank top (oh sweet jesus, don’t even get me started on THAT. Let’s just say I won’t be waving a lot to people this summer!)… I am enjoying the freedom of wearing what I like more and more, regardless of what other people may think.

I’m not sure what created such a drastic change…. now constantly with the nails and manicures, wearing dresses and looking at shoes and makeup more.  Some friends have a theory that it’s a possible effect of the hormones I’d taken over the past six months, and maybe they are right… maybe there is something in them that brings out my feminine side, who knows.  All I know is that I am through with not trying things because I worry I’ll look stupid.

To be honest, the nails thing?  It’s been so therapeutic.  There were a lot of days during my treatments that I felt so down. My mind would be going a thousand miles a minute and I didn’t have the patience for anything… but I could sit and play with nail polish and paint my nails for hours.  It felt peaceful and for a little while I was free of the mental roller coaster I was riding.

I even started a second blog, yes… all about nails.  I love it!  It’s not about anything personal, I don’t discuss life or how I’m feeling.  I just share something I enjoy with other people who enjoy it too.  It’s SO simple and so fun.

It’s called (as you can see) Gettin’ Girlie.  Notice my newspaper nails manicure?  Pretty fitting for my ‘Stop The Presses’” post, huh?  I’m so clever.

Anyway, the blog is on Blogger, which I must admit I kind of despise, but that’s where the nail community ‘lives’, so I figured I may as well have my nail blog live there too. I would have loved to be able to have the nails blog also on self-hosted WordPress, because that’s how I roll… but there are elements to nail blogging (like having to use Google Friend Connect) which absolutely does NOT work on WordPress for some reason, that I can’t use, so I’m sort of stuck with Blogger. Blech.

The reasons I started a second blog for this are pretty simple.  I didn’t think the readers who visit Canadutch would all be interested in nails.  Not that everyone that visits is interested in everything I write, but if I suddenly just became all about manicures it would not really be what this blog is about.  Also, I wanted to sign up for giveaways. LOTS AND LOTS of giveaways. I so want free shit!  In order to do that you have to pretty much plague your blog with posts, sidebar stuff etc… and that’s not what I want for Canadutch either.  I like keeping this site free of spam and clutter, and that just does not jive well with what the whole nail blogging thing is all about.

For the last while I’ve been keeping the nail blog semi-secret because I felt kind of silly.  I mean, a NAIL blog? About NAIL POLISH!?  I’m so over it.  It’s fun, I enjoy it and it relaxes me.  There’s nothing to be ashamed of here… it was just me being silly and slipping into old habits of worrying what other people will think.  Over analyzing things… Now I am just rolling my eyes at myself, of course.

As hard as the weight loss journey has been so far, and will be in the coming months, and as much as these fertility treatments have taken out of me… there is a silver lining here.  I feel like I’m becoming more and more the person I want to be and am becoming less afraid of what other people think.  It has been teaching me some valuable lessons.  Most of all, that it’s ok to let your freak flag fly… and fly it will!!

Oh, just don’t think I’ll be waving it, because no matter how ‘over it’ I like to think I am, those waggly arms still drive me bananas!

Related posts:

1. Stop With the Links!
2. Confessions of a Fat Girl: Fat and Feminine?
3. Please!! Make it Stop!!

Well, if you can call it a break, but I will get to that in a moment…

Some people have been asking what is going on with us and the fertility treatments.  I’ve not written about it in a while just because I’ve been too exhausted both physically and emotionally.

For the last five months, I have spent a LOT of time (and by a lot I mean way too freaking much) here:

Because my life has revolved around this…

Don’t get excited, there is no baby in there.  That’s an egg follicle.  Every month I had to go to the hospital 3-4 times within one week so they could monitor the growth of my eggs.  This was in preparation for my IUI procedure.  When the egg follicles were mature they would induce ovulation.

Oh, and before you think that’s really not such a big deal (and I’m looking at most of the men here), because you think of ultrasounds like in the movies where they put the blob of gel on the lady’s belly?  No.  Hell no.

You know, I’m not even going to resize that photo because I think it needs to be left nice and big, just so you really get the idea of what I’m trying to tell you. This is what they use for these kinds of ultrasounds, and it does not go on the outside.  I call it the Ultrasound Dildo.  Oh, and just when I would think it ccouldn’t get any more fun than this, it often turned out I’d be having the echo done by some random male intern who looked like he couldn’t be a day over 22.  Oh yah, Doogie Howser, good times!

I can safely say that these fertility treatments have pretty much removed any shred of modesty I had left.  I’m not sure if that’s a good  or bad thing but right about now the homeless guy outside the supermarket could ask to look all up in my lady business and I’d probably let him without even missing a beat.

So anyway, now that I’ve left you with that mental image, I will move on.

In order to grow these egg follicles (plural) my life has also revolved around these…

Daily injections in my stomach and a monthly whopper of an injection in my thigh.  Thankfully I am not even remotely afraid of needles and got quite good at giving myself the injections.  I really feel for the women who are afraid of needles and have to do this every day.

Even though I am not bothered by the needles, that doesn’t mean the injections were a walk in the park.  Sometimes, for whatever reason, it would really hurt.. like REALLY hurt.  I don’t know if I was hitting something or if some days I was just more sensitive than others, but there were times where I had a really hard time with the injections because of the pain.

The worst part though?  The results…  these were hormones I was pumping into myself and I am crazy sensitive and emotional anyway.  With the injections it was like PMS all month long, and that was no fun at all.  Not for me or for anyone around me.  The fact that this was taking place during the winter, when my mood usually takes a dip anyway, and fresh off the back of a surgery?  Let’s just say, it made for a rather unpleasant situation.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one suffering.  My husband suffered, even though his life really only revolved around this.

No seriously, they really are his sperm!

Yes, suffer he did, by proxy of course.  I know I was an absolute nightmare to live with but he did everything he could to try to make it a little easier for me.

Especially during this time… after the procedure was finished and my mind was going crazy, because that’s when the real insanity starts.  Once the insemination was done and I was facing the dreaded two week wait, which always starts with this 20 minutes of laying still right afterwards.  Two weeks is a lot of time to live in that kind of uncertainty, especially when you are up to your eyeballs in hormones.  My head was full of hopes and dreams that kept colliding with my fears and anxieties.  Did I care what I was going to make for dinner, my hobbies, my social life or anything else?  No, it was all about this, every day, 100% of the time… and no amount of telling me to relax, not think about it or go on with my life was going to change that.

So, hubby knew there was only one answer.

Act like a total clown…

… and keep me entertained.

I will love him forever for that, because it didn’t end on that hospital table. It was every day, whether it was urging me to go out and see my friends, curling up with me for a nap in the afternoon, dragging me out for a walk with the dogs or tempting me with photography outings, he did find ways to help make it better sometimes, and that was no easy task.

Ok, he also kept me stocked with chocolate, the man is no fool!  It didn’t bode well for my diet but desperate times call for desperate measures, and these were desperate times indeed.

So, where do things stand now?  It’s over… well, for now anyway.

I have had six cycles of IUI, which is all that I was covered for with my insurance, and this last cycle they really went to town with the drugs. I guess it was a last ditch attempt to make it work, but it didn’t. The evidence of the latest failure came this past weekend and it was a pretty rough time for me.  Even though deep down I’ve always sort of known that IUI wasn’t going to work for us, I was hoping it would.  Of COURSE I was hoping it would, what am I saying, I’d be crazy if I didn’t!  I was disappointed, angry, sad, frustrated, ticked off, PISSED AS HELL!

Now where do we go from here?  That’s the thing, the journey isn’t over.  I am now on a break, if you can call it that.  I need to get back on the wagon and lose another 30-35 lbs in order to move on to IVF.  They were able to start the IUI earlier as this is done at the hospital and it’s at their discretion, but IVF is done at a separate clinic and it’s a firm rule here in the Netherlands that they won’t do it if you have a BMI over 35.

If only I were taller!

On the plus side, I now am getting the chance to let the hormones leave my system, have at least the spring and summer (and probably fall) free from hospital visits, needles, and hormones, and all the other negative shit that is a part of having these treatments.

On the down side… I am not sure it’s really a break at all.  Losing weight is difficult, yes I’ve done it before but I have backtracked and gained about 15 lbs of the 80-85 lbs I’d lost previously. Ok, it could be worse after over five months of the hormones and all that, but still.  It’s hard enough to lose weight without the pressure of our future on top of it.

It’s all on me.  There’s not a thing Xander or anyone else can do to make this happen. It’s me.  Which is fitting, I suppose as it wasn’t anyone else that made me fat to begin with.  So I suppose it should be up to me to make it right.  Still though, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that losing weight is hard in the BEST of situations.  Trying to lose weight while feeling my biological clock ticking in the back of my head, impatience and frustration because I want to do the IVF NOW and get it over with, and having to re-lose weight I’ve already lost.  That’s a bit more difficult.  Both our futures rest on my ability to do this.  All our eggs are in MY basket (pardon the pun) and if we ever want to have a family I HAVE to lose this weight, and soon, because I’m not 25 anymore.

What also makes it difficult is having spent the last five months having one procedure that didn’t work. It feels like it was all for nothing.  I got off track with my weight loss, went through a massive amount of mental anguish and physical pain… for nothing!!! 

I do have the choice of doing three more IUI procedures (if my insurance agrees) after I lose the weight and before moving on to IVF.  After so many IUI already failing a part of me wants to go straight to the IVF, and I also worry about possible weight gain over those three months which will mean another break again before beginning with the IVF.  I will decide that once the weight is off though.  I will probably do the IUI just to completely maximize my chances.  May as well, I guess.

How will I ever cope if I do manage to lose all this weight, have the IVF and that doesn’t work either?  I really don’t know.  With my history of depression tied with infertility, I really worry about what that will do to me mentally. I’m already completely crushed after the IUI’s ending without success, but at least I know there is another step.  We still have IVF ahead of us.  What will I feel and what will I do if IVF doesn’t work and then that it’s, the end?

I really don’t know.  I can’t not try though because I’d never forgive myself. 

So please, be prepared… it’s going to be a rocky few months here on Canadutch!  There may be some ranting and I suspect it will be a lot of talk (and bitching) about weight loss, so please bear with me!

Related posts:

1. Gonna Get My Hump On
2. 100 Steps To Go
3. The Day My Husband Finally Got In My Pants

Yesterday I was whining about my weight issues with the fertility treatments, but I think my husband has found a solution!  He shared this video with me and thinks it might be just what I need to kick my weight loss back into gear…

I’m not entirely sure, but I think he may have an ulterior motive.

Related posts:

1. Denny Crane Is Gonna Say Some “Shit”!
2. 30 Days of Truth: Day 29
3. The Day My Husband Finally Got In My Pants

This stuff is making me batshit crazy, and hungry!  It’s like PMS all month long.  Seriously, it’s absolute insanity!

For months I followed a very strict diet which excluded most carbs, all sugar and processed foods.  Once I got past the detox stage it was a breeze.  I made it through three weeks in Canada, I made it through Christmas… but once the hormone injections started, it was game over.  I haven’t been able to make it through this.

I’ve been trying, I really have, but as each month goes by it’s getting more and more difficult.   I am a stress eater, an emotional eater and any woman knows that our appetites increase during that time of the month.  With the hormones, it’s always like that time of the month.  I’m also usually stressed and emotional, which makes it like a constant cycle of fighting myself in regards to food.

On the one hand, I want to be really good. I want to continue losing in spite of all that is going on because I want to be rid of all this weight once and for all.  On the other hand, fighting the hormones and my own brain with trying to stay on my diet and not gain weight is stressing me out even further, which I’m sure isn’t helping in the baby department.

So I go back and forth… constantly.

There are certain times where I am ok.  Not good, just OK.  Where I can keep something that appears to be a bit of self control.  Other times, I’m like a shark in a feeding frenzy and I can’t seem to make it stop.  I am hungry all day and no amount of self pep-talking helps.

It gets really confusing, being an emotional eater that is having this therapy, because it’s really hard to tell what is really the cause of my indulgences.  Is it my brain, that loves to make me want to eat anyway using the drugs as a convenient excuse to let loose?  OR, are the drugs mainly to blame?

Last month I had had enough, and in the short period of time I had between the injections I once again did the detox portion of the diet.  I did really really well and my fifth and final day of the detox was on a Sunday, then on Monday I had the one final whopper of an injection. By Wednesday I would have eaten the dogs if I could have caught them!  There was no stopping me, nothing was safe.

Am I weak or am I just suffering an unfortunate side effect that comes along with the medications?

Of course, my insecurities alone are enough to convince me that I’m weak and this is just me giving up on the weight loss thing, but the doctors tell me it’s normal. They should know, right?

Perhaps it’s a bit of both… maybe the drugs really are causing my appetite to go out of control, and the stress of everything is making it more difficult for me to stay strong.  I don’t think I can blame the drugs 100% because I’d like to think to some degree that it’s mind over matter, but sometimes I wake up with the absolute best of intentions and then it all goes to shit.

Take this past Monday, for example.  The Friday before I had started seeing signs that our latest IUI was unsuccessful (girls, you know what I’m talking about, it starts with an S and rhymes with uhh, dotting).  I was SO bummed out, like… incredibly.  I got up on Saturday morning, put on a happy face and went out with my girlfriends.  I had a choice… try to be as good as possible and maybe find myself still frustrated and unhappy at the end of the day, possibly bringing my friends down with me, or say fuck it and go have a good time without stressing about what I eat.

I said fuck it and I had a great time.  I’d start being good on Sunday.

Sunday rolled around and well, let’s just say there was absolutely no doubt about the lack of success of our IUI.  Hell week had officially begun.  Dammit.  So I spent most of that day avoiding the world and trying to do things on my own that didn’t make me think about the month ahead too much. I failed miserably and when we went out for groceries I got some Oreos to take my misery out on.

I drowned those bastards. Then I ate them.

Then I felt guilty.

Monday.  MONDAY was going to be the day!  The day I got my act together and went back into diet mode!

Monday morning I phoned the hospital to find out what our plan of attack was going to be for this coming month.  They phoned us back to tell us that they were changing my medication to something much stronger, and that it could no longer be done as it had been done the previous month… it was time for me to learn to do proper injections.

You see, with the medication I’d been taking previously I could use a needle like a diabetic’s pen.  I still had to go to the hospital to learn how to use it but it was pretty simple.  Stick the thing in the thing, turn the knob, poke it in and press the button.  Nothing too scary, no having to worry about air bubbles or mixing meds.

The new medication was different.  It would require me to mix it, use a proper syringe and watch for air bubbles and look all nurse like.  This made me pretty nervous but I figured if I dealt with the other injections I’d make it through this ok.

Only one problem. They don’t use this particular medication very often so they didn’t have it at the hospital.  Our local pharmacy didn’t have it, nor did any of the pharmacies connected to it, so the lady at the hospital asked if we could call around looking for it as it would be faster than her trying to do it with all the interruptions there.  The medication could have waited a day but they strongly suggested we try really hard to find it as it’d be better for me to start as soon as possible.

I was starting to wig out and thankfully my husband was home and didn’t mind calling around.  After calling multiple pharmacies and finally getting one to call the distribution center to see where they’ve dropped it off lately, we found ONE pharmacy in the ENTIRE city that had it.  That was only because someone had forgotten to pick theirs up.

I did get a momentary distraction wondering who forgets to pick up fertility medication.

So we got the hospital to fax them the prescription, went to pick it up, then straight to the hospital for my needle lesson.  Mix this, poke this there, tap that, press this, insert the thing in the other thing etc.  I think I got it!

While I was there the lady was sure to tell me to contact them if I had any side effects that seemed  out of the ordinary, so I took that opportunity to ask about the eating.  I asked her if it was normal to want to eat everything in sight.

She said yes, and that they hear that very very often.  That it’s just a part of the whole fertility treatment thing and it’s not just me.

So there, an honest to goodness medical professional just told me that the hormones alone are enough to cause me to want to chew my own leg off, yet I still feel guilty and weak. Argh!

While I did think I had a handle on the needle thing, I was still on hell week, still had PMS charging through me like a freight train and the uncertainty of what was coming up this month with even stronger medications, bigger needles and everything else had my anxiety levels through the roof.

So I took it out on some more Oreos.

Then I felt guilty.

Monday was a total wash.

Tuesday wasn’t a lot better.

Wednesday, WEDNESDAY (today) was going to be the day!!  I was sure of it.  When I went to bed last night I thought ok, I can do this!

This morning I woke up hours later than usual, as I did yesterday, feeling nauseated and with a really annoying headache (like yesterday).  When I got up my husband started talking to me and it took all of about five minutes for the tears to start.  Completely out of my control, frustrating as heck, but there they were.

This day was not starting out quite as I expected.

Then the doorbell rang.  Oh blessed delivery man, look what he brought…

Can you hear the angels sing?  Omg…

A friend and I have an agreement where he kindly sends me stuff I miss from back home, and I send his family Stroopwafels and other yummy stuff from Holland. I knew it was coming, I know I should have stopped it but I was weak.  If I was going to go to hell, I may as well ride there on a peanut butter cup.

A part of me thought I should just put them away, not let the hormones get to me, I’m strong!!

Yeah, not so much.  That thought lasted for about as long as it took me to get a wrapper open.  Oh sweet baby Jesus, so delicious.

People keep telling me that I’m too hard on myself, that I need to relax and not think about the diet so much because it’s just giving me added stress.  The problem with that is I feel like these treatments rely on me keeping the weight off, so does having the healthiest pregnancy possible.

I know it’s not like I’m gaining all the weight back, in the last 3-4 months I’ve only gained about 3kg of the 39kg I had lost, but it still feels like too much.   The doctors said I can expect a few kilos of bloating alone, but … argh!

I wish I was losing, but with everything that is going on I am barely managing to maintain.  I know these treatments won’t go on for ever, so if it ends and I’m not pregnant I will be able to concentrate fully on the weight loss.  Will I really be able to do that though?  Knowing that any hope I had of having a child is gone for sure?

What if I do get pregnant, there will definitely be gaining then.  Not loads necessarily but I know that any will feel like shit.

It’s a difficult balance, the medications and trying to keep a handle on my weight.  I’m not sure how much longer I will be able to do it.  Each month I feel myself slipping more and more.  Is it because each month the drugs are getting more intense or because I’m getting worn down?

I’m not sure I’ll ever know, I just hope when all is said and done and I look in the mirror that I don’t see that same fat face looking back at me that I saw two years ago.  I miss feeling proud and excited about my weight loss, I really want to feel that way again.

Related posts:

1. Project Fatass Heads Into Spring
2. Project Fatass Heads into Winter
3. Project Fatass Week 14

I’d like to change my weight… I’ve not lost a thing in the last three months, but with the fertility treatments and all the hormones that are being pumped into me, it’s taking everything I have just to maintain the weight I had gotten to.  At some point, either when the fertility treatments end or after I have a child (cross fingers) I’d like to continue with my weight loss journey and reach my final goals.

I want to see what I look like at a truly normal weight… what I look like under all of this.

I’ll get there but at the moment there are other things that are more important.  I’m not gaining at the moment and I think that’s pretty good considering that I’m a major stress eater and I’m majorly stressed!

No gains is a win right now.  I will continue to lose when this is all over, one way or another.

Related posts:

1. 30 Days of Truth: Day 28
2. 30 Days of Truth: Day 17
3. 30 Days of Truth: Day 6