what a tangled interweb we weave

Three years ago when I finally came to grip with the fact that Hubs and I needed help in the baby making department, I became best friends with a horrible, nasty, awful bee-otch.

Her name is Internet.

Don't get me wrong. The web is good - maybe even great - for all sorts of things. If it weren't for the Internet, I wouldn't have this blog and access to all of you ladies and gents who can share in my reproductively challenged misery. After all, without the Internet, I would actually have to ask my doctor in person, "now where exactly are my ovaries again?" Thanks to the magic of Google (and not Bing. Never, ever Bing), I can just bring up a wonderfully explained and graphically colored diagram of my inside lady parts and figure it out on my own.

Too much of a good thing, though, is not so good. And after about three months into our fertility treatments, I found out just how not great the Interwebs can be for me and other ladies like me.

Take for example, my dive into Clomid. I knew Clomid helped me ovulate and therefore produce follicles, but the Internet opened me up to all kinds of things that could go wrong with Clomid.

Hot flashes (those turned out to be legit)
Weight gain
Decreased urination
Increased urination
Chest pain
Vision Changes
Insomnia
Nausea
etc. etc. etc.

As usual, reading the list completely freaked me out, but I knew that not all side affects will hit every person that uses the drug. So I did the logical thing and went to some infertility message boards on Clomid.

OH. MY. GOD.

I planned to be there only a few minutes, but got sucked into this huge thread where a girl used Clomid and it made her gain 20 pounds and bleed internally and she puked three times a day and her husband left her and her dog died.

Okay, it wasn't that dramatic, but her story was scary as hell. Which prompted me to call my husband at work and relay the entire story. It went something like this:

Hubs: Hello?
 
Me: Carrie gained 20 POUNDS on Clomid.

Hubs: (shuffling papers) I'm sorry, what? Who is Carrie?

Me: This girl on an infertility message board. She gained 20 POUNDS, babe. TWENTY! And she puked a lot.

Hubs: Is this someone that's being treated at our clinic?

Me: Um, no. She lives in Andover, I think.

Hubs: So you don't know her personally and she doesn't live anywhere near us?

Me: No.

Hubs: Is she the same height as you?

Me: No.

Hubs: Is she the same build? Are her circumstances anything like yours?

Me: No. Actually, she doesn't ovulate ever. And I think she has PCOS. Her dog's name is Gino.

Hubs: You don't even have PCOS, babe. And you ovulate every month. So she's nothing like you and you don't know her situation. (mumbles to his co-worker about where to eat for lunch) You're making yourself crazy. Stay off the Internet.

Me: BUT WHAT IF I GAIN 394394 POUNDS? Will you still love me?

Hubs: I'm hanging up now.


***

But I can't stay off the Internet. In the early days, before IUI's and potential IVF cycles, I would get online right around cycle day 27 to symptom spot for preganncy. And I always had them all.

Dizzy?   Check! (Although I did forget to eat lunch until 3:00 yesterday. That could have contributed.) Let's see what else there is.

Discharge?     YES! 

Sore boobs?    YES! But always yes with the sore boobs. Every damn month.

Metallic taste in mouth?     OMG I TOTALLY HAD THIS ON SUNDAY. I remember my Cheetos tasted like pennies. I am so pregs.

And then Flo would appear three days later and my heart would be crushed and I'd want to die. And Hubs would - once again - remind me to STAY OFF THE DAMN INTERNET.

The real issue is, the Internet gives me hope. I see all those flashing emoji's that say "BFN on 5-12!" and I think to myself, "that could be me next month!" I want to have a flashing emoji!

So I hope. I carry it with me every day.

My current fertility doctor encourages hope, but vehemently discourages going online because there is such a huge amount of misinformation out there. If every time I come to his office I have a list of all the reasons he's treating me incorrectly, then what the hell am I paying him for? I mean, we want our doctor's to be experts, but then we second guess them? And while there is nothing wrong with being your own advocate and researching options, at some point, we have to just 

LET. GO.

We have to try and trust in our doctors and believe they are doing all they can to get us knocked up, short of crawling up in our vaginas and implanting the damn egg themselves. 

So ladies, use the Internet. Use it for support, use it for laughs, use it to look at funny cat photos, use it to shop. But if you can, steer clear of using it to self-diagnose and second guess your doc. Your job is to lay back (literally), put your feet up (literally) and let the magic happen.

And try not to gain 20 pounds.