While I certainly could discuss, ad nauseum, my dysfunctional digestive track, you all have heard it before. Also, through the years, I’ve come to realize that most people are generally more reticent about their bowel evacuations. So, for a couple of new readers, I will provide a synapsis: Metformin=Ovulation=Diarrhea. Daily. The latter, not the former. It has been awful.
I met with the midwife at my new practice yesterday, and I loved her. She also is infertile. She also has PCOS. We get each other. When I told her I was 12 weeks exactly, she challenged it based on the dating of the ultrasound. I told her I was basing it on ovulation, and she totally got it. There were no ridiculous questions about how I knew when I ovulated, or when the last day of my menstrual period was. She simply said, “Oh, well you definitely know exactly how far along you are.” Yes. And thank you for the validation midwife lady.
The NT scan went swimmingly with a nuchal fold measuring 1.25 mm. Phew. One more obstacle behind us. Our fabulous midwife felt pretty comfortable with this measurement, noting that in all her years of practice she has never had a normal nuchal measurement that resulted in a trisomy. And vice versa. We then got into a interesting conversation about the medical literature where she, again, didn’t doubt or question my knowledge on the topic. Love.
She then sat and answered a whole slew of questions. The first on the list: Can I quit the metformin. “God, yes!”, was her response. She also had the upset stomachs and the chronic diarrhea. Enough, she said. I can’t help but agree, especially since we had a toilet incident last week that we dubbed “Poop-gate”. Enough. Perhaps I will have to revisit the metformin in a month or two. Perhaps I will have to test my blood sugar with a home monitor. Fine. Give me a respite from this nasty, pernicious drug, please.
Things went so well that I am a bit sad that we probably won’t deliver with her. Whether or not we move to Sacramento, we probably will not be here in August. Wherever we go, I’m not taking the metormin with me. Begone!
This week has been quiet, and I’ve been working hard to keep it that way both emotionally and mentally. As it turns out, though, I do not have a quiet mind. The Circle + Bloom series has been useful exercise in stilling the chaotic voices in my head clamoring for attention. Babies! Job! PCOS! Hot! Moving! Agh! With that said, I’m working on it. I try to be gentle with myself and simply acknowledge my straying thoughts and move back to quiet. It seems easy when described in such a fashion. I think I might be particularly awful at it. Continue reading →
Once or twice a week I wake up feeling like absolute shit. I immediately have diarrhea. I’m nauseous. Eating is difficult, and I quickly develop a headache. This, in conjunction with ever present low energy levels, indigestion, and swinging blood sugar levels, makes me feel like a chronically ill person. I guess, technically, I am. However, I’ve never felt so crappy before in my life as I do while taking metformin.
As an aside, I’ve tried a gluten free diet, a dairy free diet, and a low-carb diet, alone and together. All to see if the the side effects would abate. Nada. No such luck. No discernible difference. I maintain the low GI/low-carb diet, but I eat dairy and gluten. It is hard to maintain a restricted diet when you don’t see any benefits.
I’ve been taking metformin for a year now. It immediately shortened and regulated my cycles without the aid of Clomid or Femara. That doesn’t mean I’ve grown fond of it. I can’t wait to stop taking this nasty, pernicious drug. I would love to get pregnant already, have a baby, and say, “Fuck You, Metformin!”
Today, metformin wins because Big Guy and I were going to go for a hike but the nasty diarrhea, the headache, the ensuing fatigue, it was all too much for me. Plus, it resulted in irritability and angst. I wouldn’t have been that good of company, anyway. Big Guy went alone.