Bleh

So, I am discouraged. And a little depressed. And wondering why is it that every time I put up a great post that has everyone coming out to comment, I never fail to follow up with one that completely flops on its face? Seriously, I want to know. However, that is not the cause of my angst. At least not today, anyway.

Last week I took what is becoming a routine blood test for my hypothyroidism. At the last visit two months ago, I was declared hyperthyroid, and told to lose weight, pronto. And that began an era of Gina working out at least five days a week and eating in an extremely healthy manner.

Because I am a woman who is on a mission. Except, I'm very afraid my mission will indeed be deemed impossible.

Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Your're in for a loooong haul here, so feel free to go get a drink and be comfortable. I'll wait for you. I've got to get this off my chest and perhaps I will feel better.

Mr. Personality was, ahem, a baby that took us by surprise. We had been married less than two months, I was on birth control, and Hubba-hubba was in his first semester of law school. We had a plan you see, one that didn't have me being pregnant for at least three years. Well, we all know what happens to plans, and so I stopped working, Hubba-hubba quit law school, and we embarked on our unknown journey into parenthood. I had both gestational diabetes and gestational hypertension, as well as Mr. Personality being breech and requiring a C-section. My son had colic, I couldn't breastfeed because my milk dried up, and I became severely depressed and crotchety. Only last November were we able figure out that it was my hypothyroidism causing a lot of the problems. Odds say that the hypothyroidism set in immediately after the birth.

We really wanted a second child, we agreed that the outmost distance between the two children could be five years. After that, it just seemed like they would be so far apart that their lives would barely intersect at all, at least not for a good many years. I didn't think it was a good idea since sooner or later, I am going to have to go back to work. Having another baby so far apart would necessitate even more years out of the workforce, and many other reasons made us decide that five years was it.

So with the diagnosis last November, I was secretly thrilled. In fact, the only reason I got a diagnosis was because I was gaining weight when I was trying to lose it during the summer, and for the heck of it, my doctor ran a blood panel that caught the problem. Once I had a bit of hope, I stupidly went ahead and made more plans. I thought I could finally be able to lose enough weight to ensure the healthiest of pregnancies. As well as the rather pertinent fact that it is almost impossible to conceive while being hypothyroid. But when I called the automated blood test result line, the tinny recorded voice refused to give me the results. And note to any fellow Paiser Kermanente patients, when they do that, it's never a good thing.

My doctor told me that my levels were waaaay back down again, and that my dosage of hormone would need to be greatly increased. He congratulated me on losing the piddly amount of weight that I had lost, surprised that I managed to lose any with my levels so low. I should have known. I kept thinking it was PMS making my face all puffy, which is a symptom. I kept thinking it was the heat making me crabby, which is also a symptom. But, Ocum's Razor says that the simplest explanation is the best explanation. And I hadn't wanted to admit that I was feeling lazy again, telling myself it me just being tired from all the working out. Ahhh, the things we tell ourselves.

Mr. Personality turns four at the end of September. I will let you do the math on when I would need to become pregnant to meet my five year goal. I have this sinking feeling that it just isn't going to happen. I won't have lost enough weight in time, and even worse, that my levels seem to be fluctuating highly. Do I really want to place my baby in the position of me becoming hypothyroid during the pregnancy? That is even assuming my levels stay normal long enough for me to even conceive. It can cause developmental issues, and even if my levels are caught dropping, it can take weeks for the new dose to take effect, weeks that in a pregnant state are too precious to waste. That seems so unfair, so selfish of me to put a baby at risk that way. Not to mention the other issues from the last pregnancy that might arise again, making it extremely high-risk. Do I really want to deal with the stress of that?

I am thinking the answer is no.

And that is what is making me depressed.

Not feeling better yet, either.