Katy Vs. Her Ovaries - Square One?

In August 2013 I took my first Lupron shot. I worried that I would spend the next six months a crazed, hormonal shell of a human like the horror stories on the Internet. I worried about bone deterioration and depression. I worried that my ovaries would never recover. I worried that I would never get to be even the endometriosis-ridden version of my 27 year old self that existed before I took that shot. I worried that all of this effort would not result in a pregnancy. The only worry I have left today is the last one. Eight months later I have returned to pre-lupron Katy. In fact, I assume I am a more healthy version of myself. My ovaries work again. All one and a half of them managed to crawl out from their medicinal hibernation. All one and a half of them managed to prove the women on the message boards wrong. We're back. I've been in Mexico for the last two days playing phone tag with the nurses at Dr. Bell's office and relaying the news of my return from menopause. I found myself asking the same questions I was asking nine months ago. Infertility Groundhog Day. "What do I do now?" "Am I okay?" "Am I normal? " "Do we just try to get pregnant? Like everyone else?" "How do I get pregnant?" As before, the answers from the other end of that phone line were delayed and hard to understand, no matter if I'm in Arkansas or Mexico. At the end of the phone conversation, we decided on an ultrasound on day fourteen to determine if I ovulate. This is the same process that resulted in the finding of the cyst on my left ovary a year ago. This whole infertility mess is just a system of circles. Monthly circles. Yearly circles. We just keep running the same race over and over again. Nonetheless, I'm glad to be off of Lupron. It wasn't as bad as I imagined it might be, but there were some notable issues associated. I haven't felt particularly healthy for the past few months. I've broken down in tears in front of a middle-aged man (whom I still have to answer to on a regular basis at work) in the midst of trying to fight for my female athletes to receive the same treatment as male athletes. The embarrassment I still feel about crying while trying to convince a man that we are equal human beings is simply too much for me to bare. A few weeks later I adopted a dog that I stalked for days and days. I cried uncontrollably as the flea-ridden canine sat on my lap in the car. I referred to her as my "spirit animal" in between breathless sobs of appreciation as my husband sat stunned in the driver's seat. It's safe to say that Lupron has had some interesting side effects. I am glad those things have subsided. Despite all the tears and weirdness, there was one good thing about the last eight months of Lupron. I got a break from the race. There were no negative pregnancy tests to be taken. There were no days to count. There was no timed intercourse. There was no analysis of basal body temperature or other bodily predictors of fertility. There was nothing to worry about. No disappointment to be had. It was easy. I have to admit the reality of trying to get pregnant month after month is a much more difficult race to endure than the side effects of Lupron. I feel like I'm back to square one and as confused as I've ever been about pregnancy. Also, this time around I am even more invested in making this work with the scars (both physical and emotional) to prove that I am willing to sacrifice for the same outcome that some of us experience with such ease. I am willing to work for a child although the past two years of childless life have certainly left me with a notably different perspective on creating life. I tell myself that years from now all of this will make sense; the resolution will be evident. The longer I live without a child of my own, the more I realize that the much sought-after resolution does not necessarily have to involve me being a parent. Parenthood is no longer the only acceptable ending for me or us. It's taken two years to understand that the infertility race does not always end with a child. I feel like I should confess that the articulation of my new acceptance of infertility struck me while lying by a pool in Mexico as I stared at the ebb and flow of the Gulf of Mexico. We all know a good beach can round the edges of even the most jagged stones in life.

Katy Vs. Her Ovaries - Did I get had by Aunt Flow?

 I started my period in the wee morning hours of a slumber party in 1996. I was almost twelve-years-old and celebrating the end of a school year and a friend moving away. I wasn’t the first. I guess I was aware that the same fate would befall me as it had some of my friends. Nonetheless, I was embarrassed and upset. I remember refusing to utter a word to the throng of tween girls strewn throughout an empty living room piled high with sleeping bags and pillows. Remembering this milestone years later, the paradox of a slumber party and menstruation strikes me as an accurate portrayal of growing up.
         After a few hours of careful analysis, I finally accepted that I must share this occurrence with at least one person in this world. My mom would hand me a Maxi pad and ask a few uncomfortable questions about the occurrence and then we moved on. Silent partners in the world of women. Sometime later, after the initial shock wore off, my period became public knowledge amongst my sleeping bag friends. My mom eventually assured me that periods were not the end of the world (granted, all of this conversation occurred in hushed voices) and that I should actually be grateful for this dreaded monthly happening, for a period would allow me to fulfill what my mother still touts as her proudest accomplishment: having children.
        My friends and I were notably less sold on the power of a period. We spent years sharing tampons and stories about the trials and tribulations of growing up female. Some of us cursed more than just the inconvenience of a period, angered by the sacred possibility of pregnancy in our hormone-driven world of adolescence. I always respected reproduction far more than most of my friends. My seemingly regular cycles bolstered my mother’s “be grateful” approach to menstruation. I always trusted that the agony endured would one day be worth it when I was thirty and married and a mother.
        I haven’t had a period in eight months now. Lupron fulfilled its promise of “shutting down my system” as the doctors communicated to me. I feel like I have caught a glimpse of life on the other side of womanhood, a snapshot of menopausal Katy, complete with bone pain, hot flashes, and unwarranted tears. Even after Lupron is technically out of your system, a person does not immediately go back to a normal reproductive being. There is a window of time before a patient starts producing hormones and eventually has a period. This is what got me thinking about periods and puberty. This flip-flop between a healthy twenty-something-year-old to medically-induced menopause and now to waiting and wondering when (if?) these busted ovaries will ever start functioning again. I am becoming a woman. Again.
       After I was diagnosed with endometriosis, I started wondering when the disease started setting up shop inside of me. Were the cells of my uterus attacking their reproductive friends since that fateful summer night in 1996? Is the moment that I walked through the door to being a child-bearing woman also the exact moment that my body started fighting against itself? Did I endure the “be grateful” advice from my mother for nothing? If I had ever had uncommitted, unprotected, premarital sex with anyone, could I have even become pregnant? Or was all of this a sham? Have I been unable to have children for as long as I thought I could? Did I get had by Aunt Flow?
       I used to believe that people get what they deserve. Call it karma or blessings or whatever you will, I used to think that things work out the way they should. The longer I exist with the ever-present infertility cloud hanging above me (and my husband) I wonder if maybe all of this is a lot more of a crap shoot than I’d like to believe. I worry that those years of periods were nothing more than annoying.  

Rolling Boulders

To wrap up our Denmark and Iceland adventure, I am going to document a few random happenings along the way.

One day in Iceland we devoted some time to finding Crossfit Reykjavik. Cody is not a crossfitter per se, but he has been interested in the workout phenomenon for some years now and watched the Games long before everyone else thought Crossfit was hip and cool. On a whim, Cody mentioned that some of the best Crossfit athletes in the world come from Iceland. Before long we were exploring Reykjavik while looking for gyms. Cody specifically mentioned Annie Thorisdottir, a Crossfit athlete that is so famous that even I recognized the name...to make a long story short, we eventually happened upon the gym (no, I cannot bring myself to call it a box) that Annie is part owner of. Naturally, when we walked in, Annie and a few of her ridiculously in shape buddies were fixing to work out. We got to meet all of them, explore the facility, and talk all about muscles for close to an hour. Cody was in workout heaven and all of the athletes were so very nice.

As is the case with any somewhat lengthy trip, there were also some entertaining moments. Cody and I got along so well on this trip it was ridiculous. There were very few times that I found myself frustrated with his silliness or annoyed by him standing in the way or driving too slow or taking pictures of the most useless stuff that no one will ever want to remember. We just really had a great time. These are a few pictures to capture how often Cody makes me feel really happy and glad to be alive.

 And here's a compilation that sort of defines us.

A few other things I want to remember...Cody filmed close to four minutes of nothing but my butt while on our trip. Walking onto planes. Riding on escalators. Getting on trains. Staring at paintings. All of this was unbeknownst to me as I was actually doing productive stuff during these video shoots. Also, he saved a lot of this footage according to the action I was performing. In more than one of the saved videos he spelled "escalator" as "escilator" and because I love him, I think that is adorable.

At some point I had some deep thoughts on this trip and what it meant for us as young married people in love and wandering the world together. At some point I felt like I knew exactly what it was that I would take away from all of this. At some point I remember telling myself to remember this or that. However, over a month later, I am left with what I always cherish about travelling: a renewed appreciation for where I come from. I am left with a relentless love and respect for Cody for always being willing to run with me when I feel like there's somewhere else I need to be. I am left with a new perspective on the boulders at home that seem to shrink when you're an ocean away. And I am left with a little more strength to roll the boulders that remain the same even after thousands of miles of running, for it is those things that are worth fighting for in Arkansas and Iceland alike. We must keep rolling the boulders.

The sunset as we boarded the plane from Reykjavik to home with Icelandic quotes about travelling and searching and ultimately finding who you are. 

Go somewhere.

Gullfoss Waterfall

After we drove through the national park and saw the geyser erupt, we were off to the final stop along the Golden Circle Tour, Gullfoss Waterfall. By this point in our day, we had managed to survive nearly being blown off the road as well as some health issues that made for a memorable time. We managed to find Gullfoss, which is a convergence of three waterfalls. Gullfoss is where the movie Prometheus was filmed a few years back. It is literally in the middle of nowhere with nothing but snow and mountains surrounding it. The wind was completely out of control while we were there, which was sort of the case with our entire Golden Circle Tour by the way.

Geysir

After driving through the national park in Iceland that we determined looked exactly like all the rest of our driving up until that point, although the park did have a highly anticipated bathroom (Cody and I will remember how anticipated this bathroom was for years to come), we found the second stop of the Golden Circle, Geysir.

The gist of this stop was that there were two geysers in this area, one of which was the first ever geyser that coined the term geysir, which all other geysers are named after. The actual famous geyser does not erupt as often as a smaller one beside it that erupts every tenish minutes. The wind was stronger than any wind I have ever experienced, and it was so, so cold. It was also pretty like nothing I have ever seen.

Everyone trying to film the geysir.

My photography skills are very questionable in extreme weather conditions.

Cody with GoPro in hand waiting for the magic.

The Blue Lagoon

Besides seeing the Northern Lights, Cody and I also wanted to take advantage of the thermal pools in Iceland. Because Iceland is a volcanic island, there are numerous "hot spots," or natural pools of hot water. If I ever find myself in Reykjavik again, I will try to spend some time at the pools within the city. You can pay a few bucks and spend all day in the warm water (along with a bunch of Icelandic kids according to the internet). One night towards the end of our trip Cody and I happened upon one of the public pools, which looked super nice. We ended up having an impromptu driving lesson (I don't know how to drive a standard) in the parking lot of the pool as we waited for the clock to strike midnight on New Year's Eve until we eventually attracted the attention of the security guard. Moral of the story...visit the pools if you're in Reykjavik and learn how to drive a standard when you have rented a car from a bunch of punks who deserve someone to treat their car like someone who doesn't know how to drive a standard. Take that SADcars. Moving on!

On our last night in Iceland after the craziest day of our trip (life?), Cody and I decided to visit the Blue Lagoon, which is the most famous thermal pool in Iceland. Before we left, we had read mixed reviews about the Blue Lagoon, which is actually the result of a power plant right next door. Visitors complained about the price and the tourist trap feel associated with the thermal pool. I kept wondering how safe it was to be swimming in water right next to a power plant. When in Rome, you know? Eventually, Cody and I had both let go of the romantic idea of jumping in holes filled with water strewn across the Icelandic countryside. You need towels and bathing suits and you can't see what's below you and it's a bit cold to be running back and forth from the car to the magical water-filled hole. In other words, sometimes tourist traps are worth the accessibility.

It was dark when we visited the Blue Lagoon which was a bit of a bummer. It was also freezing cold outside, which in Iceland means that the wind is blowing like crazy. The water was great, but the wind attacked your head and ears. Other than that, the Blue Lagoon was lovely! It was definitely a tourist attraction, but since we were there close to closing time, there were not too many people. There were waterfalls throughout the lagoon and swim-up bars. They gave you enormous robes to wear to and from the pool. There was a sauna and steam room. The facility was very nice, and I often thought to myself that if it were daylight and a little warmer, I could have been super into the Blue Lagoon. The wind was just a little too much for me.

Since we were swimming, it was difficult to get many pictures. Cody did use the GoPro to take a few pictures, as well as freak out every other person in the Blue Lagoon. I think they thought he was an American pervert trying to capture everyone in their bathing suits.

About our best picture from the experience. Yes, it sort of looks like we're swimming in skim milk. 

Either way, our time at the Blue Lagoon was really nice. It was definitely a welcome experience after the craziness of travelling. I will leave with a completely random video of Cody and me with the magical mud on our face at the Blue Lagoon.

The Golden Circle...of Near Death Experiences

We arrived in Iceland on a Monday afternoon and were scheduled to leave the following Thursday afternoon. That left us with two full days and an evening and a morning to manage to do all we thought we wanted to do. Tuesday we devoted mainly to stalking Crossfitters (obviously Cody's idea) and preparing for the crazy New Year's Eve fireworks extravaganza. Wednesday we found ourselves embarking on a driving tour, the Golden Circle tour, that was recommended as a manageable dip into the real Iceland of photographs and movies. We had no idea the adventure that awaited us when we set out in the pre-dawn dusk (10a.m.) of Wednesday morning.

The sunrise as Cody pumped gas at a self-serve gas station in Reykjavik at about 10a.m. on New Year's Day. The coming and going of the sun never disappointed.

We started our Golden Circle driving tour with no gas in our car. Also, since we set out for the inland portion of Iceland on New Year's Day there was hardly anything open. We spent literally over an hour looking for a gas station with working gas pumps and then another good chunk of time looking for a gas station with humans working in it to ask how in the world we actually start driving in the direction of the tour. At the time, we had no idea how much the gas cost exactly because we are ignorant Americans who don't understand liters rather than gallons and kronur rather than dollars. When we got home, we did notice that a tank of gas cost around a hundred dollars. Ouch. We also realized that the Golden Circle Tour that the Internet touted as a very doable self-dive experience was a bit more intense than we imagined.

After asking some convenience store workers for directions that led to an impassable road due to ice followed by asking a Yugoslavian couple with a GPS in their car for help, we finally started on our drive in the right direction. We noted over and over again the lack of road signs in Iceland. We assumed that the most popular tourist experience in the country would be well advertised but it was not. Moments after seeing the last signs of civilization in Reykjavik we were surrounded by mountains and snow. The disparity between the city and beyond was drastic and disarming. The countryside of Iceland was unlike anything I have ever seen and something I will never forget.

The view only minutes outside of the city.

The Golden Circle consists of three sites, the national park Pinkgvellir, the waterfall Gulfoss, and the geothermally active valley of Haukadulur, which contains two geysers, Geysir and Strokkur. We drove for what seemed like an eternity before actually making our way to the first stop, the national park. The eeriest part about the whole experience was that there were no buildings anywhere and only the occasional car moving in the opposite direction of us. I had read warnings about the icy roads and we very soon realized that the weather, specifically the wind, was completely foreign to us. At some point our car was literally being blown off the side of the road. There were some tense moments to say the least. If it had not been for the six inches of ice-free asphalt near the shoulder of the road and a kind Irish man in an SUV behind us, we quite possibly could have found ourselves stuck in the multiple feet of snow off the side of the road. It was completely out of control. We were fortunate that all of the roads were not as ice-covered as the most treacherous part. After discussing our crazy driving experience, we heard stories of car doors being blown off by the wind. The wind was for real, my friends. So scary and real.

What we looked at for miles and miles or, excuse me, kilometers and kilometers on our drive.

I will recap the actual stuff that we saw on our tour at some point. I felt like the journey to the actual sites deserved a post unto itself.