Our Family Beginnings

I have completed the first week of my 15 week half marathon training. I’ve been all over the map too. The last time I seriously embarked on a fitness regime, was 5 years ago, when I was trying to recover from some food issues after losing 30 pounds. I was also near the beginning of being treated for infertility. I had started the half marathon training program, but quit halfway through at the behest of my doctor. I never really got my workout mojo back after that, and of course the pounds followed.

I did get that trainer pack from Mr. Badger two summers ago for our anniversary, and it helped, but I wasn’t doing cardio on my own, so while I gained muscle, I didn’t really lose weight. When I finally did get about two weeks in to running, we got the call about V, and well, while I kept up with it for a bit, the lack of sleep finally caught up with me and that was it, I was done.

Flash forward to this week, and I was really nervous, like losing sleep nervous. Moderation isn’t really my strong suit, and this is the ultimate test in both moderation and self discipline. I actually got inspired by E’s Mama and her dedication to her own wellness plan as laid out by her doctor. She’s following it to a T, that way if it doesn’t achieve the goals that she was expecting, she knows that she’ll have done everything asked of her, and won’t beat up on herself. That clicked something in me. Isn’t it awesome when our friends inspire us?

I sat in the introductory meeting before our first run, and listened to our coaches speak about their experiences with running. It was the usual “rah-rah, you can do it” that one usually hears at these things, but for some reason, it really helped when the coach got on her serious kick. She mentioned that the program is so aggressive because it’s not only for people who want to complete their first half, but also for experienced runners who want to back off from a marathon in order to do a triathalon. That explained so much about the high mileage to me. She kept beating home that the schedule is set up for a reason, that the off days are for serious NON RUNNING workouts, so we should swim, bike, or do some other non-weight bearing exercise. I thought about how I haven’t swum laps since high school, where I was on swim team for my first two years. I started making plans, figuring out what time of day I’d need to leave to get my runs in before V wakes up in the morning, calculating mileage from my parents’ house so I can do my long run on my own next weekend.

And then this morning, when V went down for a nap, I donned my speedo swimsuit I had bought with the intention of swimming so many times before, and went to the neighborhood pool that has a dedicated lap pool. I didn’t put my toe in the water to check the temperature, because it was irrelevant. I was going to swim, and if it was cold, I’d need to suck it up, so I just jumped in. I swam 52 25meter laps, or 1300 meters, or .8 miles. It was like riding a bike, and felt wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, I signed up for the masters swim program that meets on my off running days first thing in the morning during the week.

The plan is there for a reason, she said. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna make it work. Oh, and to stave off the perfectionist food issues, I’m gonna eat like I usually do.  It’s not like I’m a huge eater anyway, so I’m not planning on dieting.  I’m not gonna have a salad unless I feel like having a salad, you know what I mean?  I just need to remind myself that I’d rather be in shape and wear the same size pants rather than be thin and famished.  Because you know what tastes better than thin feels? Ice cream and wine.

edited to add:

I also looked at my splits this morning, since my phone tracks my mileage via gps, and it was awesome.  By mile, on my long run, each mile was faster than the one before it.

Yet again, I am embarking on an adventure. I have signed up for a half-marathon in the fall, and a training program for it that starts next Tuesday.

15 weeks.

13.1 miles.

I don’t quite have the mileage base that I need to get going, but I took a run today to catch up a bit. We shall see…training in the nastiness that is a DC summer should be interesting. Also of note, I was in this same program 5 years ago when we were starting with ART, and my doc told me to stop running. Maybe I can get my old body back too!

If you want to follow my status, I’ve added a widget on my sidebar.

Needless to say, I think the world of Mr. Badger.  He’s my rock, and I love him more than words to express.  Even more than I love my fake boyfriend. I’ve talked about my weight on here a bit, and even the wonderful Lori mentioned that having seen me in person, she can’t imagine I ever had a weight issue.

I’m not fat.  Thanks to therapy I do know that I am not fat.  I weigh 156 pounds at 5’7″, which for a medium build is just over normal.  The bigger problem is that I am almost totally sedentary, and if I keep that up, I won’t just be 156.  I’d like to not be in size 12 pants anymore.  I’d like to not run away from a camera in horror, for fear that a second chin appeared in the photo.

As I may have mentioned, for my 10th High School Reunion about 4 years ago, I decided to get into shape.  I did it all on my own (and with Mr. Badger’s mad cooking skills).  I became a runner and ate…well, spartan was how my diet became.  I ate enough calories, but I got way too anal about it, so that wasn’t good.  Food is tasty, so to hell with that.  So I got down to 127, and was all muscle, and a size 2.  That pic of me on facebook is from that era, just fyi.  I still would have to be shown pictures (had I let any be taken) to admit I was too thin, but some people said I was, so I was.  I’ll accept that.

Moderation.  Never been my strong suit.  But I’m gonna try, and I will bring it back to Mr. Badger.  It takes a brave man to get his wife something for weight loss for their anniversary, but he did it way smooth.  Like Clooney in any Ocean’s role smooth.  He said to me, “You gave me your body for the last three years for fertility treatment.  I want to give it back to you.”  His hands were shaking as he handed me an envelope.  Inside was a brochure for this place called “Fitness Together”.  Basically, it’s a bunch of rooms that are set up like home gyms so that you can have private workouts with a trainer.  I got to sign up to meet with one 3x week for 48 total sessions.

I went for my first appointment on Monday, and I nearly yacked, I worked so hard.  That always happens when I haven’t been doing cardio.  My muscles are stronger than my lungs, so I think I can do more than I can.  Anyhow, the trainer was totally cool about it and I rested until the dizzy feeling went away.

More news as it comes…maybe I’ll not look horrendous for my SIL’s wedding!

eta:  They did the electronic (more reliable) Body Fat % measurement.  34% – ouch!  At least he didn’t believe me when I said I was 156, he thought for sure under 150.  Thank heavens for “carrying it well”.

Deep breath taken.

When we last left our heroine, she was in a pissy place. Her husband had left on business for a week, and she was on a break from cycles for an undetermined length of time while her RE figures out WTF is going on.

I went out with my girlfriends to a bar on Thursday night, and it was as if the angels were guiding me. I had a lot to drink. A. Lot. Like, “metro is delayed for a sick passenger” a lot. Except I didn’t get sick on the train, I was able to hold that off until I was at home. I didn’t have the room spin, and I wasn’t hungover! As my friends said, I just needed to blow of steam. I did, and I feel okay now.

I ran (if one could call it that) yesterday, and did weights this morning. Figure that if I’m not cycling, I don’t have much excuse for sitting on my ass.

I think we all go through phases with our bodies, we’re conditioned to. You think that if we never heard about cola existing that we’d ever want the stuff (I couldn’t think of a good analogy before coffee this morning)? I think women are just socialized to comment negatively about their bodies. Hell, if Faith Hill isn’t even as thin or pretty as Faith Hill, what chance do the rest of us have?

Some backstory*, and this is where I get screwed if old friends find this blog. I had an old co-worker, and she never stopped bitching about our jobs. And for good reason, the place was evil. Eventually we both left. A year and a half later, it was still the only thing she’d talk about with me. I let our friendship drift apart because it just was one note and that note was a sour one.

Back to modern day. We were out with other friends of ours on Friday night, grabbing drinks before seeing The Simpsons Movie. Friend A still works at the job I just left, on my team. And it’s working for this friend, and I am happy for that friend. We of course chatted about how his job is going plus some scandal surrounding the company as a whole.

When Mr. Badger and I got home that night, we were sitting on the couch, and Mr. Badger looks at me with a pained look on his face.

“What?”, I ask.

“Well, you’re not going to like what I have to say. It’s probably going to really upset you.”

“Okaaaay.”

“LJ, you’ve, well, tonight I kinda noticed that you…”

And I cut him off to save myself the embarassment. I figure there is only one thing that he would be so nervous about saying to me, and so I interrupt, “I’ve gotten fat, I know…”

Mr. Badger looked shocked, then almost hurt that I was thinking that. “No, you just were kind of like XXX tonight. All you did was bitch about your old job. It was really not fun”.

And he’s right, and I’m going to watch myself on that. But interesting to where my head went. That the ONE thing that would strike such fear into my heart was my body. I know that I’ve gotten better about it than I used to be, but it’s clear that there are still plenty of hang-ups that I have. I wonder if there’s any way to change this cycle, I mean, in the greater sphere.

Marketing convinces us that we’re not good enough, rich enough, smart enough, clean enough and so they sell us products to fix us. They update products that are only updated to sell more of a product, not give actual value to the customer. I mean, how many different flavors and versions of fucking toothpaste do we need?

It’s funny, my dad is actually in the Ad biz, selling airtime to national companies, so my family is part of it all. I’m part of it for reading magazines, which basically have not told me anything new (aside from cooking magazines, I think). They just keep rehashing the same garbage “Lose 5 pounds this weekend” and “Chocolate is the new hotness” in the same issue and the sort.

No point really, just was on my mind. Off to comment.

*some details have been changed

Lots of disjointed thoughts today, so let’s start with yesterday:

I went to the RE, my regular one, to discuss what we’re doing and if anything can be gathered from the first three IUIs, including the miscarriage. She didn’t say anything surprising, which was a bit of a relief. Basically, the gist is this:
If money were no issue, she’d tell us we’re a great case for IVF. We’ve learned all we can from the tests we’ve done so far, and testing egg and embryo quality can only be done through IVF. She also said, that if this were a board exam, she’d not recommend us to go right to IVF yet just on clinical data. IUI has worked, per se, it’s just how much more do we want to put ourselves through emotionally. So we agreed that after I am done with the BCP we’ll try IUI again. Part of the rationale is that IVF may be covered at the place I am interviewing at, and we’re willing to push IVF off in efforts to save thousands of money. After that, if IVF is covered, we are doing it. No questions.

On the plus side, the doctor basically said that given everything, it isn’t if we’ll get pregnant, it’s when. IUI, given enough time, can work, assuming all is well with the eggs and embryos that we produce. She went over the “shared risk”program, basically saying, if we wanted to do it, she’d have no problem with that, but cautioned us. She said, that clinics cherry pick the best candidates for the program so that the clinic has a good chance of making money or at least breaking even. (For those who don’t know, Shared risk is where you pay up front for a certain predetermined number of cycles, and if you don’t get pregnant, you get your money back. For example, it can be $20k without the meds, for 6 cycles. If you get pregnant in the first two cycles, you didn’t save money. If it takes you 3-6 cycles, you save a hefty sum). Basically, she’s confident that we’d get pregnant in two cycles.

On the side that’s weirding me just a tad, is the whatifs. What if there is something wrong with my eggs or the way they fertilize. I suppose it isn’t a big deal, because we’ve drawn a line for ourselves. We won’t be doing IUI forever.

Another thing she mentioned, is I do not have PCOS. Basically, my ovaries are in a constant hibernation, but when given gonadotropins, they kick into gear. This means that it is a pretty strong guarantee that after any medicated cycle, I’ll have cysts and need to take a month off. That’s the other reason that I don’t want to do IUIs too many more times, it means each cycle really is two months long.

Which leads me to the other thing on my mind. My mom is wonderful, very earth-mother, and very supportive of everything Mr. Badger and I are doing. Yesterday, though, she wanted to get some stuff off her mind to make sure we’re okay. She hates to see me in any kind of distress or pain, and she worries. She worries because her first cousin, who has been struggling with breast cancer for over 2 years was just diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. She basically asked, and not in an uniformed way, “what if nature is trying to protect you? if your hormones do kick in from all of this, what if you weren’t supposed to have that happen?”. She’s terrified of my mortality. Honestly, I had given it little more than passing thought.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but it still strikes me as just NOT NORMAL that I don’t really get my period more than 4 times a year, and who the hell knows if I even ovulate when I do? Who would you go to get that checked out?

One of my dearest friends lost her mom before she turned 60, before my friend turned 30. My mom’s cousin is the same age. I don’t want to leave my family before I was meant to because I had the audacity to fuck with nature.

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Enough with that morbid stuff.

I’m just getting up to speed on this week’s blogs. Something’s been keeping me from reading. I’ve gotten a lot done this week, but today I am in a funk. So I promise, I’m reading today, I may not comment, but I’ll get back to it soon.

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Lady-in-Waiting will know where I’m coming from here, and I know I have mentioned this a bit before, but we all know what it’s like to struggle with the hormone-induce weight fluctuations. I was talking to my therapist about my interview on Monday and how I need to get a suit. She asked, “Don’t you own suits?” as she has seen me in suits before. “Yes, but they are all size 4″. It didn’t bother me at the time, but it is bothering me now. And that’s good, because I need to remember, I am in control of what I put in my mouth, but not good, cause I don’t want to think about it.

And Mr. Badger, you guys, he’s awesome. He never learned to swim, and now has been doing it for a month and is looking amazing. I mean, the guy has SERIOUS muscles. It’s really hot, I’m not gonna lie. But I feel dumpy, just really dumpy. When I was a size 4-6, clothes just looked perfect on me, it was easy to go out and just feel confident. I know what I’m wearing now, I’m like a “what not to wear” before. Ratty tees and ill-fitting jeans. Not doing my hair or makeup. Bra that’s too tight and DEFINITELY not supportive enough (what do you mean they aren’t supposed to be at my knees?). Now, that’s not to say I can’t clean up and look smokin’, I can. I’m just feeling dumpy and lumpy. I know I just have to force myself to do something about it, but frankly, I’m scared to. LIW will understand why.

So now I’m on the deck, on this beautifully mild day breathing in the fresh air. At least I know that’s something I can feel good about.

I’m enjoying this time off, and really embracing relaxation. I’m sure that’ll be put to the test soon with the next cycle. I haven’t had any epiphanies about my last post, and I just want to talk a bit with my RE about my concerns. Part of me just doesn’t want to move a) because I like my practice and b) I don’t want to lose more time by starting over with another practice.

In the meantime, a few months ago I alluded to the fact that I once lost a lot of weight. Not a lot a lot, but a lot for me. Typical freshman 15 turned into 20, and then 30, and suddenly, my 5’7″ frame was 157 pounds. Any more weight, and I wouldn’t have fit into clothes at some of my favorite stores. I went to VS to get a new bra, and not only was I not a 36, I wasn’t a 38 either. Not prepared to get a 40 anything, I left in tears and vowed to change…

This was April of 2004, and I had 6 months to my 10 year high school reunion. I grew up in a pretty well-to-do area, and (I know this will sound awful) I didn’t want people to see how out of shape I had become. So after many years of starting and stopping diets and exercising, something clicked. I started measuring and recording everything I ate, and ran 5-6 days a week and lifted weights every other day. Come reunion time, I had achieved my goal of dropping 30 pounds. I was all muscle. My mom praised me at the time, but this past week said I looked like a scarecrow.

Whatever, I know I was about 5 pounds too light considering how muscular I was, and thanks to a crappy job and a nice eating disorder I developed, I put on about 10 pounds. After starting therapy again I beat the eating disorder, started running again, and got down to between 132-135 depending on how bloaty I was.

Cue infertility. Infertility, with its no raised heartrate mantra. Infertility, with its weight gain-inducing meds. I used it as an excuse to not move much, and now I’m up to 147. Not just that, but I’ve lost most of my muscle tone, so that’s a lumpy 147. I was a size 4/6 and now I’m a 10. One year later, I’m a 10. Now, I actually am comfortable with how I look per se. I also know I am carrying that extra weight in my belly – that unhealthy fat. I know I’m heavier than is healthy for me. I can tell.

So today I walked on my treadmill for three miles. I also went to yoga. I eat healthy for the most part, but I am someone who needs to snack. Knowing that, I need to cut back on my standard meals, and keep my stomach from being too full or too empty. Infertility complicates it, because I want to commit to gaining muscle (and thus losing weight) – but know I’ll feel guilty if I lose weight and get a BFN. Ignore the fact that they could be unrelated. We just don’t know why we aren’t pregnant, and I don’t want a reason to blame myself for it. I don’t right now, and I don’t want to.

So there’s the rub.

Mom and Dad have left, and Mr. Badger and I had a day and a half to just be together, which was nice.

Tomorrow I go back to work, and as a nice little “screw you”, I noticed some more blood when I went to the bathroom just now. Cute. I now get to face the terror that was my job before this two week journey to heaven, hell, and back to purgatory. At least I know that my bosses can’t be mean to me tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll It would be wise for me to not assume what people will be like tomorrow, which is where I was about to go here. Nonetheless, I’m expecting some furrowed brows, sad glances, and a few inappropriate remarks here and there. I’ll make sure to save any choice ones for in here.

My next post, I intend to talk a bit about how I went from about 157 lbs. down to 127 lbs. three years ago, leading up to my 10 year reunion. A crappy job (not my current one) put 10 lbs. back, which on my 5’7″ frame was actually a good thing. But the fertility meds, lack of exercise, and a fondness for ice cream have me back around 145. I was a muscular 135, and a size 4-6, but a flabby 145 and a size 10-I don’t want to think about it. I know there are many out there who are playing the world’s smallest violin for me, but I’ll write more about it tomorrow.