Friday, February 1, 2013

PCOS: Let's do this!

Hi, my name is Alison and I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). There, I said it. I have PCOS.

Until recently, only my husband, mother and maybe 2 close friends had any idea that I struggled with PCOS. It's not that I am ashamed to have PCOS, but stories of cyst-covered ovaries and infertility elicit sympathy and I have a serious complex about sympathy directed toward me. Perhaps I have a psychological problem or some childhood trauma buried deep inside, but I doubt it; it feels more like good, old-fashioned pride. I hate for someone to feel sorry for me. Oh, sure I like to feel sorry for others. After all, I grew up in a little corner of the world where Texas and the South collide head-on and I love to feel sorry for other people. "Oh, bless her heart," and "I sure do hate to hear that" roll off my tongue with such ease. I just don't want to have any heart blessing directed at me. My life is, for the most part, an open book, but only a handful of people know about my struggle with PCOS.

I started my period at age 13 and vividly remember the mixed emotions that came along with that. On one hand, I was excited to grow up. On another hand, I was moody and did not yet understand why. On yet another hand (I get as many hands as I want because I am talking about female hormonal issues), I was pretty upset because the night before my womanhood began I had talked my mom into this really cute Guess skirt and had plans to wear it church the next morning and I was extremely paranoid about this whole period thing. Everything seemed to go by the book, but 28 days later I was without a period. My periods came when they pleased, but I don't think I ever had more 4 in a year. I was in great shape, very athletic, but not so lean and muscular that amenorrhea should be a problem.

At 16 I took my first trip to the OB/GYN. Before long I was having ultrasounds and labs done to see just what was causing the irregular periods. I remember hearing something about polycystic ovaries, but I was not particularly worried. After all, I was not sexually active and only having to deal with periods and all that comes with them only a few times a year seemed like a winning idea. When I went to college, I began gaining weight. Along with the weight came a new PCOS symptom. I suddenly had acne, a problem I had managed to avoid in my high school years. I went on birth control pills throughout my 20s to trick my body and keep these symptoms in check and did not think much about it at all. My OB/GYN made it sound so simple. He told me to take the pills to keep things going, then some day when I was ready for a baby he could give me another handful of pills and we would be good.

I married my husband, Doug, when I was 28 on 07.07.07 and we did not want a child right away. I went on birth control for nearly a year and a half and stopped taking the pill in October 2008. I had my "period" from the last pack of pills during the first week of November and then waited for another period to creep up. By early February, I had still not started and decided to see my OB/GYN to ask for an injection or pills to induce a period. She told me we would need to wait 6 months following the last course of birth control to induce a period and sent me on my way.

On the morning of March 20, 2009, I rolled over in bed and my breasts were very sore. I decided to take a home pregnancy test and received a positive result. I drank about a gallon of water and took another test an hour later. It was still positive. I remember calling my doctor's office to get in for a blood test and answering that awkward question about my last period. Um, November? I was about six weeks along when we found out and on November 18, after a very uneventful pregnancy, I gave birth to Lily.

I packed on weight VERY easily when pregnant. I was unable to produce much milk (another PCOS symptom I later found) and was not able to exclusively breastfeed, so I hoped I would manage to have a period. I did not so we induced one with pills when Lily was 4 months old. I dieted, exercised and couldn't see to shed any weight. When Lily was a little over a year, I stopped the pill and continued to try to lose weight with no success. I am writing this blog post two years later and I have not had a natural period since giving birth. In fact, in the 5 1/2 years I have been married, I have only ovulated once. On the positive side, our success rate on fertilization is 100%!

After about 6 months of dealing with infertility after Lily, I found a fabulous new doctor who helped me work on getting to the bottom of my problem. He showed me ultrasounds of my ovaries covered in "string of pearl" cysts and studied my labs carefully. He referred me to an endocrinologist and I have learned so much about PCOS since then. I was prescribed Metformin, a drug generally used to treat diabetes and spent about a year and a half on Metformin and was actually able to drop a little weight with the help of that drug. Just recently, I started more in depth research about PCOS, hormonal imbalance and the processes of the body and have decided to take a more natural approach. This is where I will share my journey.

Doug and I would like to add another child to our family and I would like to do so as naturally as possible. I will combining exercise, nutrition and natural supplements in an attempt gently coerce my body to have a regular ovulatory cycle. If you are reading this, I hope it can help you in some way. All I ask of you is to pray with me as I embark on this journey!

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Hello, blog.

Hello, blog. Long time, no see!

It has been a long time since my last blog post and, funny thing, I have missed blogging! In addition to Eat, Pray, Love and Work posts, I also plan to start posting about Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) and the war I am waging against it. Managing my PCOS has become a huge part of my life and since it affects at least 5% of women I am hoping my journey might be helpful to someone else.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Favorite Summer Must-Haves for Little Ones

I realize we are well into August and Summer is technically nearly over, but I do live in Texas and summer temps definitely last well into the Autumn months. During this summer with my extremely active 2 year-old endurance champ, I have discovered a few products that have made this summer so much easier. Here are my top 3:

1) Keen Newport H2 Sandals-These have to be the most durable, comfortable, adventure-friendly sandals ever. Lily loves them because they are comfy and provide her with the best grip for climbing anything and everything in sight. I love them because they are somewhat odor-proof, easy on and off, waterproof, gunkproof and easily washable. They also match almost every play outfit we have. As far as being odor-proof, that is not completely accurate, but when washed they come out looking and smelling new. Lily wore these to the beach and into the water and they came out still looking brand new. These shoes were recommended to me by the good folks at Sandy's Shoes in Austin and last time I was in I heartily thanked them for the recommendation.

2) CamelBak Kids 12 oz. Water Bottle- Every mom know how difficult and trying it can be to find that perfect water bottle/sippy cup. They all claim to be leak-proof, but most aren't. When you finally find that perfect leak-proof bottle, it is usually hard to clean and reassembling after washing requires the patience of Job and the brain of a rocket scientist. The CamelBak Kids cup really is leak-proof, is easy to reassemble, holds a lot of water (great for hot summers) and is virtually indestructible. Well over a year ago, Lily began taking my CamelBak water bottle from me and drinking all my water. She basically claimed it, and I wanted it back. On my next trip to Sprouts I came across a kiddie version of my cup. It has since withstood over 300 washes and has been throw in dirt, stepped on, thrown across rooms and has dropped long distances onto concrete and other hard surfaces. It lives on!!!

3) Bubbles, the Fisher-Price Bubble Mower, to be exact- An oldie, but a goodie, the bubbles that you blow through a wand are great anytime, but there is something really special about chasing bubbles on a summer evening. You can spend a dollar on a bubble with a wand or spend more on special wands and machines and bubble guns, but it is always fun. We really love the Fisher-Price Bubble Mower! It takes about 10'stepsmto really get it going and you do have to clean/maintain for optimum performance, but it is a really fun way to blow bubbles!

Are there some great summer products you can't live without?

Friday, June 22, 2012

Pray: Toddler in Christ

I am not a morning person. Mornings do not come easy for me and never have. Before I had a child, I would shower, dress, fix my hair and apply makeup in about 30 minutes after snoozing for an hour, turning off the alarm clock and waking up to my back up alarm that was in reality, the only alarm that mattered. Although I am known as a gregarious person who will talk your ear completely off, I prefer not to speak to anyone before 8am. As you can imagine, a child rocked my world. I managed to set up a very nice routine; I would shower, then wake Lily up and let her watch a little Mickey Mouse and munch on a little breakfast while I finished getting ready. It was perfect. Then she began forming opinions, and not just any opinions. She began forming very strong opinions that left no doubt that she was mine.

At first it was easy stuff. She didn't want to take her medicine, so I used chocolate milk to persuade (or bribe, if you want to use that kind of language) her to swallow it. She wanted oatmeal instead of french toast sticks or a muffin instead of cereal, so I would give her what she wanted as long as it was nutritious. These requests were reasonable and they did not require much thought or negotiation on my part. I had this morning thing down to a science.

The beginning of the end came when she started having opinions about she would wear. How cute is it when your daughter gets into her dress up case and puts together adorably obnoxious ensembles of mismatched beads, hats and plastic shoes with a tutu thrown in for good measure? You tell her she looks beautiful and encourage her to continue using her imagination and creativity. I remember the first clothing fight well. Lily and I were going to the pet store to look at animals, then on to get a haircut. She came out of her room in beads, hair accessories and plastic shoes that caused her to shuffle around the house. I was good with all but the shoes, not because I wanted to stifle her creativity but because I did not look forward to carrying around a 30 pound toddler when the plastic shoes started to hurt her feet. I sent her to change and she protested a bit, but then came back with shoes that matched her outfit and she was wearing just enough dress up stuff to make it look like I had dressed her and was incapable of matching clothing.

That first clothing argument was a breeze. It was late in the afternoon, I had consumed plenty of caffeine and I had been awake for hours. The real challenge came that Monday when she brought me the outfit she was dying to wear. It was before 8 am, so I was not really in the mood to argue, but she had brought me a shirt that she had found in the dirty laundry. The shirt was so filthy that I am honestly surprised a roach colony had not taken over the hamper and feasted on the foods that were stuck on. Lily's morning personality is much like mine and we had what I will always remember as our first knock down drag out. Maybe I'll add that to the scrapbook. :)

I decided to outsmart my strong-willed 2 1/2 year old fashionista by hiding the filthy clothing, but she found them (probably tracked the atrocious scent) and did whatever she had to do to get them. That's when I decided to give her choices. I would hold up two mommy approved outfits and say, "Do you want to wear this or this?" It only took 2 days for Lily to beat me to the punch and confidently march into my room holding up two filthy, completely unacceptable outfits and say, "Okay, mama, THIS or THIS?" SHE was giving ME choices.

I laugh at the absurdity of my two year-old thinking she is capable of making better decisions about her life than Doug and I are. We provide her clothing and shelter and food. We protect her from danger. We meet her needs. Absurd right?

But seriously, how often do we, as God's children, think our way is wiser? I would like to think of myself as a mature Christian, more than a "babe" in Christ, but I often find myself exhibiting toddler-like spiritual behavior.

I know I am not alone, because the Bible is filled with examples of people like me, people who think they are wise apart from God's will. God instructed Jonah to go to Nineveh, but he refused and attempted to hide from the creator of the universe. When we do something that we know is contrary to God's will, aren't we in essence saying that our wisdom is greater than the the wisdom of our Creator?

He gives us food and clothing and shelter. He protects us and meets our needs. And we think we are capable than God of making wiser decisions about our lives. Absurd, right? Sometimes I am a lot like that strong-willed 2 year-old, wrestling with God. A toddler in Christ.

I find myself relating so much to the apostle Paul and I have to remind myself of the words God breathed through him: "Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men." (1 Corinthians 1:25 NASB)

Monday, June 18, 2012

Eat, Pray: heart-shaped sandwiches and love

Anytime my daughter carries a packed lunch, you can be sure of two things. It will contain a sandwich made with whole grain bread and said sandwich will be shaped like a heart...or a flower...or a fish. I can't stand the thought of sending her off with a square or circular sandwich or even a square slice of cheese. Sometimes I build an entire theme, like a fish shaped sandwich swimming in a blueberry sea. I've even done 2am searches on Pinterest for the coolest bento boxes for kids; while my Southern upbringing and Future Homemakers of America days fully prepared me for pound cakes and dumplings, those Mickey Mouse bentos look like they would require at least a year of culinary training. Since I have trouble finding time to paint my toenails, the year of culinary training is definitely out.

I know it is just lunch, but I come from a long line of people who express love through food. My own working mother would get up in the morning and pack me a lunch of turkey and mustard on saltine crackers. I didn't eat bread, and after finding a big hunk of a buttery cheese substance in my spaghetti I had sworn off the tray lunch in the cafeteria. I took my lunches for granted then; you tend to take a lot of things for granted when you are raises by Super Mom. Now I look back and can feel the love my own mother had for me and I think of it every time I am wasting bread edges and cutting out that sandwich with a cookie cutter.

It sounds sweet, right? Does my child really care? Probably not. So why do I care so much? Since I became a working mom, I have become obsessed with doing all I can to make every day special and to ensure that, while someone else is actually sitting next to her during lunch, there is some sign of "Mama" at the lunch table. It has become my coping mechanism. The daycare deposit pales in comparison to the start up costs I brought on myself. She needed a mat? I wanted to make sure she had a coordinating pillow, blanket and nap mat cover with her name embroidered somewhere on it. She had to have her name on her water bottle. Sure, a Sharpie makes sense, but instead I was drawn to these personalized bands that wrap around the bottle. I stressed about every last detail before her first day and I don't really think she cares. I do.

I don't have time for therapy, but after hours spent on the road for my job I have finally determined the reason for my obsession with heart-shaped sandwiches and personalized nap mat covers. It is the same reason I come home tired from work but drags self to the park or to blow bubbles in the back yard, the reason I want every second I am with Lily to be quality. It's the same reason I forget the quiet moments are important, too. I absolutely hate missing that time during the day and I grasping at ways to make the most of the time I do have. It's how I cope.

In the end, does it make me a better mom? No. Could I put away the heart cookie cutter tomorrow without Lily even taking notice? Probably. Will I do that? No way. I need it, and I hope one day she looks at that sandwich and realizes that I made it just for her, just the way she likes it, with sun butter, jelly and a mother's love. Like the turkey and mustard crackers.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Work: The Agony of Going Back to Work After Baby....

As a working mom, this column struck a chord with me...hope it touches other working moms as well!

From The Abilene Reporter News, April 1, 2012.

Sarah Kleiner Varble: Going back to work tough after having baby

Staff Reports

Sunday, April 1, 2012

This is it: the day I've been dreading for the past 12 weeks.

This is the day I place my baby girl, Alexandra, into the arms of complete strangers and trust that they'll take care of her while I go off to work. Trust that they'll feed her when she's hungry and comfort her when she cries.

That they'll wipe her runny nose and drool-soaked chin.

That they'll change her diaper when it needs to be changed and not a moment later.

These are the basics to sustaining new human life. But there's much more to nurturing, and that's what has me hung up.

Will these caregivers have time to coo back-and-forth with my chatty baby? Will they smile at my second-born and sing to her?

When she's done eating, will they let her rest her head on their shoulder for a few minutes and listen to her respire with contented puffs of air?

Will they look into her big blue eyes and tell her without reservation that if she works hard, she could one day design buildings as landscape-changing as Zaha Hadid's, shoot photos as iconic as Annie Leibovitz's or write news articles about presidents as impactful as Anne Kornblut's?

Will they tell her that she can do anything she wants because of the women who worked hard before her? That she should never take this gift for granted?

These are the things I would do if I kept her at home with me, but now, 12 weeks after bringing her into this world, I must go back to work.

Never in a million years did I think I'd even consider staying home to raise children. I'm not cut from that fabric.

I've always derived more pleasure from say, playing poker and drinking craft beer with the guys than watching yet another movie about [insert dreamy actor here] trying to win back the broken heart of a toothpick-sized actress.

I never had the desire to babysit when I was young. I never changed a diaper before July 2009 when our first child, Benjamin, was born. Before then, the sound of screaming children was abhorrent.

But the game changed when I became responsible for creating life and then, more importantly, providing the best life possible for our little ones.

I think all moms, whether they're inclined to go back to work or to stay home, agonize over the question: Is this what's best for my baby?

I'm sure that within a few weeks, the adrenaline from covering a close election will seep back into my typing fingers, and hopefully it won't be quite as painful when I walk away from the day care in the mornings empty-handed.

I know this because I've crossed this bridge before. My husband, Nathan, and I had to make the tough decision in 2009 after Benjamin was born whether we would hand his daily care over to someone else so I could go back to work.

When I dropped him off at day care for the first time, I held him in a rocking chair in the nursery for an hour, asking questions of the caretakers through a fountain of tears.

Finally the sweet older lady said in a soft West Texas drawl, "Honey, you might want to think about setting him down in one of those swings now."

So I did. And then I ran to the car and wept for another 15 minutes before I was able to drive away.

Day care has been good for Benjamin because he's learning so much in the classroom — not just his letters and numbers, but how to socialize and share. Every night, I ask him if he had a good time at school, and he eagerly tells me all about his friends.

Knowing this, you'd think it would be easier the second time around, but I'm not finding it to be so.

After watching Benjamin mature for the past two years, I know what delightful developments are in store for Alexandra, and I want to witness her mind and body growing.

The other night, I baked a chicken and it was nearly done cooking when Nathan brought Benjamin home. When they walked in the door, he sniffed the air and exclaimed, "Mmm! Smells yummy, Mommy!"

That made me want to stay home and cook dinner for him every night for the next 16 years. And I don't even like cooking.

Sarah Kleiner Varble has covered state and local government for the Reporter-News for nearly seven years.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Love: Heart-Shaped Crayons

It is 1 AM and I am still awake. Why? Oh, because I want my two year-old, who barely understands Valentine's Day, to have something really cool and handmade to give to her friends at church. Chances are that, while these are non-edible, the kids will eat them; no worries, I spent the extra 20 cents and picked up the non-toxic crayons for this DIY heart-shaped crayon project.

Here's a quick tutorial for heart-shaped crayons...

Unwrap lots of crayons. I used five crayons for each heart.