The Pain of Realizing I’m Not Healthy Enough to Have Kids, Part 2

I wrote this article yesterday. It’s been submitted to The Mighty for publication but I really wanted to post it right away, so here it is. I hope it will help someone, somewhere. (I hope it will help me, too.)


It has been almost 2 years since I wrote an article for The Mighty about not being able to have kids due to chronic health issues. I wish I could say things have gotten easier. I thought they had for a while, but the truth was that I just hadn’t been exposed to a similar situation since then.

Last week, a very dear friend of mine gave birth to a baby girl. I was so excited and so happy for her and her partner, and I asked if I could come visit them in the hospital, and they said they would be glad to have a visitor.

I went to the store and bought some Pampers, baby wipes, and a onesie that said “Girl Power.” I bought a card and a gift bag. I looked through all the baby clothes and was blown away at how expensive they were, even at a discount store. (The price of the diapers blew me away, too.)

I went over to the hospital. I saw my friend and her guy and their sweet newborn baby. I saw the baby enjoy sleeping and eating and falling asleep while eating. (Baby really didn’t do much – newborns rarely do, in my limited experience!) The baby was beautiful and I was so happy for her young, healthy parents.

1978 or 79 baby Lex and Dad
My dad with Baby Lex

I spent the next day and a half convincing myself that my husband and I could, and should, have a baby of our own. I’m in pain? I’ll deal with it. Sleep deprivation? I’ll deal with it. (Note: neither of these things are realistic.) Pooping and spitting up and all that stuff? I’ll deal. Pregnancy requiring me to go off nearly all my meds? Uhhh…scary, but I’m willing to try. No money? Lots of couples have kids on limited budgets. (Never mind that we can’t make ends meet right now and it’s just the 2 of us.) No space in our apartment? Baby can sleep in our bedroom, at least while they’re little.

I was desperate. I was ready to sacrifice everything.

I am almost 40 and can practically hear that biological clock pounding down its countdown in my ears. I have always wanted kids. I love babies in particular – I find them totally fascinating. I have seen my nieces and nephew at all ages and stages, though (the oldest is almost 15 now), and there have been amazing things about them all. I have so much love in my stupid heart, and I just want a child to give it to. I give a lot of love to my husband, but there’s plenty left over and I don’t have a place to put it!

I have lost so many of my dreams to chronic health issues. Grad school and a career are the first to come to mind, but they are far from the only ones. There are so many things I’ve had to give up since fibromyalgia struck me at age 19, and so many things that I will probably never do or have. I do not want it to rob me of this one, too.

My husband and I sat down and talked on Sunday. He tried to give me a reality check, but it didn’t work – I was in denial. Then he dropped a bomb on me: he told me that he could not handle having a child. He has several health issues and a tremendously stressful job. He picks up a lot of slack for me since I can’t do certain household chores. He doesn’t give me grief about it, but if he had to make diaper runs too, it would just be too much.

I spent the rest of Sunday and all day Monday crying. The only thing that stopped me from crying away the day on Tuesday was having to take Fioricet for a headache, which dulled the emotional pain as well – so much so that I had a therapy session and talked about this and didn’t cry and even felt oddly detached.

Today, I am putting one foot in front of the other. I’ve put dinner in the slow cooker, watched the ANTM finale, done some knitting, put away some laundry. My heart still aches like crazy, though. I want to end this cycle of grief I seem to go through every time I spend time with a baby. I am thinking about doing some volunteer work with kids (not babies, though – that would hurt too much and defeat the purpose). If we are ever able to move to a bigger place, we might like to become foster parents.

I suppose my point in writing this is to let anyone else in the same boat know they are not alone. Maybe we can work through our grief together. There must be some way to get through this without feeling a deep sense of regret for the rest of our lives. I haven’t found it yet, but I will keep searching and trying new ways of dealing with it.

In the meantime, I am determined to continue visiting my friend and her baby when I can. I may hurt afterward, but I don’t want to regret not spending more time with them, provided that they want me to be there.



Oh hello, fibromyalgia flare. Just in time for an appointment with a new rheumatologist. In some ways, it’s better to see a doctor while having a flare, so the doctor can be a bit more informed about what this is like for me. Unfortunately, it makes actually getting to the doctor’s office, sitting in the waiting room, and communicating with the doctor (and nurse and anyone else) very difficult.

If this were an appointment with any other doctor, and if I had any time coming up to reschedule this for, I would definitely reschedule. This is too important, though.

Wish me luck!

Fibromyalgia is stupid.

I know, that’s a deep thought there in the subject line. In all seriousness, though, that is how I feel. There is very little rhyme or reason to my fibro, as far as I can tell. Some people talk about patterns with their pain. For me, there are very few patterns.

Here are some things I know are usually likely to make me hurt:

  • Extremes in temperature
  • Eating too much sugar or staying up too late, or both (I have a tendency to do both!)
  • Standing for too long (sometimes “too long” is only a few minutes; other times, it’s much longer than that)
  • Sitting in an uncomfortable chair
  • Staying in bed for too long
  • Spending too much time at the computer

Other than that, it’s anyone’s guess. I can sometimes be fairly active without consequence. Other times, the smallest activity will result in severe pain. Then there are the times when all I have to do is move a certain way, and I will suddenly wind up in tremendous pain. There isn’t anything that is guaranteed to trigger a flare, and there isn’t anything that is guaranteed not to trigger a flare.

If you have fibromyalgia or chronic pain, what triggers your flares? Do you know, or do they work in mysterious ways like mine?

I know humidity is a common trigger, but for me, it’s a wild card. Snow, on the other hand, will almost always send me into a flare. Winters are also very difficult for me because my digestion slows down in the colder weather, causing stomach pain and nausea.

Which do you find is more difficult for you personally, heat or cold? I know that varies from person to person.

A lot of doctors now think fibromyalgia is caused by nerve pain. I have never believed that in my own case. To me, it has always felt like it is in the muscles. Medication for nerve pain has not helped me. (I am currently taking Neurontin, but only because it has a sedative effect that seems to help me sleep. Lyrica did nothing for me except cause me to put on about 40 pounds in the space of just a few months – not helpful, to say the least!)

I recently happened upon a theory that fibromyalgia is caused by problems in the fascia. This makes much more sense to me.

What do you think? Nerve pain? Fascia? Something else (or a combination of factors)? I’d love to hear from you.

Traveling while chronically ill, part I

This may become a series of posts (hence the “part I”), because I can’t imagine that I will be able to post everything that needs to be said about this in one entry. Much as I would prefer to be writing about traveling with chronic illnesses in general, I feel that I need to write about myself and my own experience right now. Perhaps what I go through will be helpful to other readers.

I will be traveling solo to Seattle on Thursday for a family event. (I plan to follow up on this post when I get back, or maybe even before if I can post from my tablet, to let you all know how it goes.) I am really looking forward to it.

At the same time, preparing for it is taking a lot out of me. My anxiety level has been through the roof since last week, although a lot of it is excitement about going to a new place and seeing people I care about. I’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping, which can really mess with the fibromyalgia.

When one has a chronic illness, even planning for a day trip can become extremely difficult. This is a 6-day trip. There are the “normal” things I have had to do, such as finding a new dress for the occasion, which was mostly fun. (My dress is fabulous, if I do say so myself.) I also got matching accessories and made matching jewelry. I may have gone a bit overboard, but again: fun. I bought a book on Seattle and have been trying to figure out what to do with the few days of spare time I will have there. Also fun.

Then comes the not fun stuff. Least fun of all is the anxiety. I’m sure I should be meditating or doing something to help myself relax, but I am completely wired, and so far I have found that medication is the only thing that helps. Not so good, but at least it’s something.

I have had to make tons of phone calls about special accommodations and arrangements. I have had to get drivers to bring me to the airport and drivers to pick me up at the airport on the other end. Since I need help with my luggage (as in, I can’t even get it out to the curb – or even lift a checked bag from the baggage claim), I’ll need to pay a little extra, since I have to get a car service and not, say, an Uber or a regular taxi. We cannot afford any of this, but I’m pretending we can.

I have also been in touch with the airline I’ll be flying with and the TSA about getting around the airports themselves. Since I cannot roll my carry-on bag, I will need assistance. I have been told that there is no way to get someone to just wheel or carry my bag for me – I need to get wheelchair assistance specifically. It does not matter that I do not need a wheelchair. Wheelchair assistance is the only way to guarantee that someone can help me get my bags to the gate.

This will be weird for me. I am not at all used to riding around in a wheelchair. As a result, it may make me feel like a bit of a phony. I will have to figure out a way to deal with that. I cannot let my pride get in the way of getting any assistance I need. (Also, I’ve been told that you get through security much more quickly when in a wheelchair. I plan to test this theory.)

IMG_3851 (3)
Pictures are fun, so I’m putting in this one of my handicap parking permit with purple butterfly beads to symbolize fibromyalgia awareness.

I have about a billion things I need to put in my carry-on bag. I plan to bring a checked bag as well, but all I can think of to put in it are my casual clothes and less necessary toiletries. The majority of my stuff needs to be with me at all times. In my carry-on, I will have my dressy outfits for the events, prescription medications (a gallon ziplock bag full of small bottles as well as a very small cooler for my prescription eye drops), snacks and sandwiches (because there is no guarantee that I will be able to find anything in the airport or on the airplane that meets my dietary restrictions, and it’s a 6-hour flight), my heating pad, and the toiletries I cannot live without if my checked bag gets lost. This is going to make for a very full carry-on bag. I will also have a smaller tote bag inside my rolling bag, which will contain my Kindle and various other things I will need while on the plane.

I have no idea if this will all fit into my little rolling suitcase. I will probably do a trial run later to find out. I wanted to put a jacket in there as well, since it’s been colder in Seattle than it has been here, but I know I will not have space for that so I’ll have to put it in my checked bag instead.

The family member who is making the food arrangements for this event (as well as lots of other arrangements, I’m sure!) – which includes a dinner, a service, a luncheon, a party with another dinner, and a brunch – has been very patient with me while I bug her about my dietary restrictions to find out if I will have enough to eat. I am really grateful to her for this. I can carry lightweight snacks around with me if absolutely necessary, but I cannot bring a whole meal with me because I will not be at home where I can make myself a sandwich with bread I can actually eat, and because with my neck and shoulder pain it’s already hard to carry anything extra in my handbag. Also, it is incredibly awkward to be at a gathering and have to bring your own food – or eat beforehand – because you can’t eat anything that’s being served. This is because, no matter what I say, other people feel bad for me. I do not want pity. I just want food. LOL!

I have not written much about it here yet, but gastroparesis makes my stomach very particular about what I can put into it without getting sick. Unfortunately, that means my diet is not as simple as gluten-free or soy-free or even low acid. It is very hard to explain to others what I can and cannot eat. This is in part because it doesn’t seem to make much sense a lot of the time. I can eat dairy products, which bother a lot of people with stomach ailments, with no problem. However, for example, I cannot digest raw vegetables. (I will eat most cooked vegetables even though they may set me off, because nutrients and all that.) I cannot eat wheat, but I do not maintain a gluten-free diet. I can digest small amounts of gluten, such as those found in spelt (aka farro or faro, one of the “ancient grains”). I also do not have to worry about cross-contamination because I do not have Celiac Disease. That is my diet in a very small nutshell, and I’m sure I will be posting more about it as time goes on.

Mainly, my point here is that I have a lot to think about that the average healthy person probably does not when they travel. I cannot walk long distances (and some airports are HUGE!), I cannot stand for very long, and I need to keep myself fed. I have to figure out how to keep my anxiety under control while waiting at a crowded, noisy gate. Then there are the things that are completely beyond my control. For example, I may wake up Thursday morning with a fibromyalgia flare or a migraine headache. If that happens, I will have to medicate myself and hope for the best.

All in all, travel is a huge hassle – but well worth it. I just hope things will go as smoothly as possible.

Health ramblings

“On paper, you’re the picture of perfect health.” Those words were said to me yesterday by my new Primary Care Physician as he was looking at the results of last year’s physical. (OK, so they weren’t really “on paper,” they were on his computer…but we know what he meant.) I am such a case of “you don’t look sick” that even my test results are conspiring to make me less believable.

I’m kidding. I’m actually really glad my lab results are generally normal. I have fibro, I have reflux esophagitis, I don’t exercise or eat right. Things could easily go sideways at any time. As of last year, my cholesterol was at the high end of what’s normal, and my good cholesterol was, well, good. It didn’t worry the doctors. I hope this year’s physical will be similar. (I’m due for one in September.)

I have hope for this new Primary Care doc. He doesn’t seem daunted by my impressive list of medications and conditions. He is willing to work with me as long as it doesn’t involve making medical decisions that should be made by specialists, which is perfectly reasonable. He listened to what I had to say yesterday, and when he spoke, he asked questions and said things that made sense. He was friendly and kind, and was even wearing a lavender shirt and a white tie with purple and lavender stripes (purple is my favorite color, so this made me happy).

He wants me to try to work with my other doctors to cut down on my meds, which I hope I can do. There are a few I’m taking that I’m not sure are helping, so decreasing the dosages with the help of whatever specialist prescribed them is a good idea.

He’s ordered a bone density test and a gastric emptying study for me. (I won’t go into why bone density is a worry for me at 37 years old, but it is.) My last gastric emptying study – the one that determined I had idiopathic gastroparesis – was 9 years ago, so we want to see how my digestion is doing these days. I had been on Reglan (a motility aid that helped considerably with my gastroparesis) for years, until a doctor took me off it last year due to the risk of tardive dyskinesia. (Scary stuff!) I did not get noticeably worse when I went off it, so that was that.

I told him about the work I’m doing to try to get better – the weekly psychotherapy sessions, weekly Fibromyalgia Life Coach sessions, trying to develop more of a social life because it makes me happier. That’s all been working out well for me, though I hit bumps in the road when life interferes (throwing horrible eye allergies at me, or giving me a mystery illness with a slight fever like I have now, or what have you). (Side note: the eyes have been much better lately! Hooray!)

Here’s the killer, though: he wants me to try making drastic dietary changes. Ummm…drastic? Yikes! I love food. My diet is already restricted significantly because I cannot eat wheat or soy or raw vegetables without getting really sick. I will give up coffee and chocolate over my dead body. Same with dairy products, though I can try to decrease them somewhat, I think – if I can think of other things to eat!

The main thing he suggested to me was an anti-inflammatory diet. However, in my Internet research, it’s become apparent that a lot of sites (and doctors) disagree on what that means. To that end, I’ve reserved a few books from the library on what one should or should not eat with chronic pain, all of which have recipes included. I figure I’ll cherry pick what I can from those.

I’m of the opinion that drastic dietary changes would be a bad idea for me unless I were absolutely desperate to try something new. Food brings me joy. When I don’t eat food I like, and/or when I don’t eat enough, I feel deprived – something I tend to think that I feel often enough as a fibro patient. I don’t want more deprivation.

However, I’ve known for a while that I need to cut down on sugar. A lot. I have a terrible sweet tooth, and although my sweet-eating is limited to what doesn’t contain wheat or soy, that still leaves a lot of delicious things. (Gluten-free baked goods from my favorite farmer’s market vendor…Ice cream…Fancy chocolate. Mmmm.) Cutting out sugar completely would make me a totally miserable human being, but cutting down on it would probably decrease my pain levels. I am sensitive enough to sugar that I can actually feel my pain get worse after eating something particularly sugar-laden. Not a good feeling (except for my taste buds!).

That’s all I’ve got to say about the Primary Care Physician visit for now.

On another note, Fibro Coach suggested I try melatonin for sleep. For a very long time, I’ve been on Trazodone as a sleep aid, and lately my sleep hasn’t been great even with that. I tried the melatonin. It worked too well! I found myself sleeping straight through the night for 10-12 hours. That would be fine if I had nothing to do, but I do actually need to get out and do things sometimes, so I’ve cut it down to half a pill. I’ve also tried reducing the Trazodone (with a doctor’s help). Not sure how that will work out. Wish me luck!


I have big news that must wait until another post. Please stay tuned.

Still the hardest thing of all…

My 15-year college reunion was a little over a month ago. Many of the people from my graduating class had their families – including small children – in tow. I’d been worried about that beforehand because I’d known it would happen, and I’d worried about my own emotional reaction; but instead, I found that I was OK. I was on a bit of a “kiddo overdose” – they made so much noise! Since a bunch of us were staying in the dorms (which I’d done for our 5-year and 10-year reunions and now will never do again, but that’s another story), I got the benefit of lots of kid noises. I’m pretty sensitive to noise, so I was rather happy the children weren’t mine, even being cute as they were.

Then I stayed for a few nights at a friend’s house and met her beautiful (and smart!) 15-month-old girl. I love the kid, but just seeing the struggle my friend went through to get her daughter to stand still while she cut her nails was enough to scare me into thinking, “I can’t do that.”

Also, all parents of small children seem to look sleep deprived. I feel sleep deprived all the time, despite the fact that I tend to get a lot of sleep, so I can’t quite imagine what I’d be like on very little sleep.

A few weeks ago, a close friend came to visit with her adorable baby girl. This kid was mostly calm and quiet, taking everything in, clearly intelligent and curious. I still didn’t feel bad after their visit. I was just happy for them and their family.

I’ve been going out of my way to see my friends with small children, because small children grow and I want to see them while they’re still little. (And also, I want to see my friends, of course!)

So I’ve been going along, since the Reunion, thinking things were fine. Thinking we didn’t need a baby, that we couldn’t take care of one and we’d be better off trying to take care of ourselves, which is hard enough. I thought I was a little closer to the acceptance of my situation that I crave so badly.

And then…setback. This morning, while unable to sleep, I started reading a book by one of my favorite authors, Jennifer Weiner. (I know, it’s chick lit, but it’s intelligent and funny and just good.) Unfortunately for me, this book is about a woman with a husband and a daughter and a career and a house in the suburbs. Sure, the daughter’s difficult. Sure, the marriage isn’t working so well. Sure, the mom’s got an addiction to painkillers. But somehow, when I stopped reading for the time being, I couldn’t help but cry.

A baby is not in our future. A house is not in our future (and neither, it seems, is a bigger apartment than our current 1-bedroom). A career? Ha. Not for a while, anyway, though I’d never say never.

It’s hard not to dwell on the things my friends, and people who are not my friends, have that I likely never will. I can try to console myself by thinking that I am doing my best to take care of myself, with the goal of eventually getting some better; that I am trying to get Disability, which may eventually give us a little more money so that maybe we can pay our bills without dipping into savings every month; that kids are noisy and dirty and don’t let you sleep.

I know we’re lucky. I know my husband is amazing. We have a nice place to live, albeit a small one with no room for kids and an underwater mortgage. We’re not homeless or starving. We don’t have life-threatening illnesses. We have lots of blessings and love in our lives.

I still want a child. Every fiber of my being wants a child. I want to be like my friends who don’t want children and who have never wanted children and will likely never have them. I want to want that freedom. I just don’t. (Besides, the things people say you can do when you don’t have kids – such as take vacations – are inaccessible to us, anyway.)

Sorry to be such a downer. I have to get through this somehow, and writing it out helps.

I apologize for not having written much lately – I have a good excuse, one that I’d like to post about eventually, but for now this is all I can type.

Coffee, brain fog, and making plans

Here I sit, drinking coffee. Coffee is my favorite beverage. You may have figured that out already, thanks to my avatar. (That particular picture is of a mug of delicious mochaccino that was as big as my head!) Is caffeine good for me? Is it good for anyone? Who knows? Not I.

I do know that my 1 mug of caffeinated coffee per day generally helps dispel the fibro fog.  That’s close enough to caffeine being “healthy,” in my opinion. After that first mug of the day, any coffee I drink is decaf. I can’t handle very much caffeine. In fact, if I have even decaf coffee after dinner, I will usually have trouble falling asleep.

Coffee has been the theme of my day so far. I went out for coffee with my mom today at our local bookstore cafe. I am so glad I made it out. It’s been a rough week – I’ve been having a flare since last Monday (or was it Sunday? Not sure now). I haven’t gotten out much, and I’ve missed out on some things I really wanted to do. Today, I did what I wanted to do, and my mom and I had a really nice time. Afterward, I was in terrible pain, but it was worth it.

It’s so hard to gauge what will be “worth it” and what won’t, though. There are so many factors involved. For instance, I was supposed to go to a Crafting Circle last Thursday night – something I’d been greatly looking forward to. Unfortunately, it was far enough away (20-30 minutes by car, which is usually too much driving for me) that I’d have had to get a ride, and although someone very kindly offered, it could have been a problem. Getting there would have been OK. What I was worried about was having to stick with someone else’s timing (I despise having to make people leave early on my behalf, though I probably would have done it if I’d needed to and then felt bad about it afterward), and about being in so much pain by the time I knew I had to leave that the ride back would’ve been hell.

Also, I was feeling terrible already, I hadn’t been able to knit at all for several days, and I had to be somewhat conscious for the next day’s coaching session.

I hate having so many things to consider when it comes to making plans, but it’s a necessity for me, and for so many others with chronic pain and/or illnesses. If I don’t consider these things, I may wind up feeling worse – and if I’m already feeling bad, “worse” may mean debilitating. I think I made the right decision this time, but one can never really know, which is the hardest part about it. I’m always left thinking, “What if I had gone and it had been fine?” I can only make educated guesses based on past experience.