The Eternal Guest Room

Infertility kinda sucks.

the balloon

February 23rd, 2011 Posted in Procedures
Feb, 23 2011
19 Comments »

Before I go any further, a disclaimer:

If you are reading this, and you are a guy, and you know me in real life, please stop. Don’t read any further. Just skip onto the next post, or come back tomorrow, or whatever. I know I talk about a lot of personal stuff here, but this one just icks me out, so please just skip it. I’d really appreciate it.

Thanks!

So. When I went in for my pre-op appointment, I was less-than-thrilled to hear there was a 40% chance I’d come out of surgery with a balloon in my uterus. That would have to be in there for 5 days. That I would have to remove myself.

I remember looking at the doctor with a horrified “WTF?” look on my face. I was a little less scandalized when he told me that there would be an easy-to-find string/tube that would just have to be cut and then pulled. Over and done. Easy peasy.

Except that it wasn’t. I couldn’t find the damn thing. And I wasn’t going to go on a mining expedition.

The office was apparently closed yesterday for the not-real “holiday” president’s day (seriously, who closes for that except for the banks and post offices???). So I finally got through this morning…and left a message. Two and a half hours later, I got a call – from the doctor himself. Who sounded shocked that I hadn’t found the balloon string/tube. And he said:

“I’m worried that the nurse got confused and removed the balloon.”

The balloon, if you remember, was placed in there to prevent my uterine walls from growing together after surgery. If that happened, there would be no way to fix it. And I would be barren/sterile/infertile. FOREVER.

So I freaked out.

I was at my part-time job, which doesn’t afford much privacy. So I cried in the bathroom for awhile, panicking that it was “over:” that this was the end, that I would never be pregnant, that my uterus was closed for business, FOREVER. And then I pulled it together and worked for a few hours and drove myself to the doctor’s office.

We waited 30 minutes in the Waiting Room of Silence. Nervous. Worried. Anxious. And then the doctor brought us back to a room. And said “Oh, it’s fine, even if they did take the balloon out, there’s a really low chance of your uterus growing together” at which point I internally sighed and thought “oh thank god, there’s like a 2% chance” and then he continued, “It’s only like 10%.”

TEN PERCENT?? That’s not nothing!

But I laid down on that all-too-familiar table with my feet in those so-well-known stirrups and he poked around and said:

“OH! There it is!”

It was “waybackinthere” and it was “beingornery” and took several instruments and the nurse leaving the room to get something else and at least 5 longhorriblepaindful minutes and a crapload of discomfort.

And then the doctor accidentally pinched me somehow, at which point I jumped, and, according to D,even the nurse flinched, and the doctor said “oh I am SO SORRY!!!” And then there was a WHOOSH, and a lot of ickiness came out, and he was cleaning me up, and asking the nurse for more stuff to help the process, and I was dying inside, because it was so gross, and uncomfortable, and icky, and embarrassing, and I acutely felt the whole horrible thing, and it felt awful, and I wanted to be anywhere else, even the dentist’s office, which I hate, but there I was, putting my hands over my face and willing it to be over…

But being SO HAPPY that the balloon was there! Because it meant that my uterus wasn’t going to grow into one useless mass. Because it meant that there’s still a chance. Because it meant that *maybe* I can still have babies one day.

And then we went out to celebrate. At 2pm on a Tuesday.

Because you celebrate when and what you can. And sometimes life is good.

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welcome iclw

February 21st, 2011 Posted in Hysteroscopy, ICLW, Male Factor, Polyps, Procedures
Feb, 21 2011
2 Comments »

Hello to everyone visiting from ICLW! I can’t even being to tell you how much it means to have this community; I honestly don’t know how I’d manage without it.

Just to give you some history:

My husband D and I have been TTC for 4 years next month (which I honestly cannot believe). Our first roadblock was a varicocele, which was repaired, and now we’re dealing with a low count and some other parameters on the low side. Our official diagnosis is “mild male factor.” Then I had a hysteroscopy to remove a huge polyp in my uterus in January 2010 – we thought that was the magic ticket. We then tried 4 IUIs and were about to start IVF, but discovered the polyp had grown back in the same spot as last time. I guess it just really loves me. So I had surgery again last week. We’re currently in a three-month holding period before we can jump into IVF, mandated by insurance even though the only thing they pay for is the occasional office visit and some of the bloodwork.

So we’re just waiting again, waiting for the time to pass so we can actually do something. In the meantime we have 3 chances to “try on our own,” which we will, with everything we’ve got, but we’re planning and ready for IVF at the end of it. It’s good to have a solid plan for once.

Thanks for stopping by!

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surgery behind me, who knows what’s ahead?

February 17th, 2011 Posted in Hysteroscopy, Procedures
Feb, 17 2011
4 Comments »

I cannot sleep. Which is unfortunate because sitting up is making me dizzy and I was getting really bored just laying in bed. I kept waking up every 20 minutes so I finally said “nevermind.”

Surgery went well, overall. The doctor got the polyp out and scraped and burned a little deeper this time to try to prevent it from coming back. The bad thing about that is that I now have a balloon in my uterus that will prevent the walls from fusing together (and thus making me completely barren and sterile, wouldn’t that suck?). A balloon that has to be in there for 5 days. A balloon that I have to deflate and remove on my own. Gross. I’m a very squeamish person and the thought of having a foreign object inside my body that I will have to take out by myself – ugh, it’s just a little much, especially on top of everything else.

I’ll try to post the photos of the polyp before and during removal for anyone who wants to see. Oddly, I had several requests for photos last time and never got around to it, so I’ll try to do that this time once we get them at the post-op appointment in a few weeks.

Surgery was at a different hospital than last time, and even though this hospital was newer and fancier on the outside (it was just a regular hospital once you got past the lobby) and had free pastries, we liked the other one better. The people just weren’t quite as friendly and didn’t seem to care about us as much. Not horrible, just not amazing. Last time I had the most AMAZING nurse ever, and I missed her. And their cracker and beverage selection post-surgery was not nearly as good as the other hospital. AND I had to listen to the nurses go on and on about lunch and Sonic drinks and a variety of chocolate while I was absolutely starving right before my surgery. I nearly leapt out of my hospital bed attached to my IV and jumped the counter to punch them in the face.

I didn’t feel the sheer terror in the operating room like last time, and I remember the anesthesia kicking in and kind of feeling like “yeah, this isn’t so bad.” Recovery is not so great so far, but I’m hoping I feel better tomorrow. I was in a lot of pain despite the vic.od.in – which is making me super dizzy – and finally threw some advil in there and found that helped more. Or maybe it was the combination. At the hospital I kept having to ask for more painkillers through my IV because they didn’t seem to be doing much and it hurt so badly. And it took forever for D to come back, they couldn’t get through to the people who could contact him or something, and I felt really lonely.

And I had a male nurse. Which – don’t get me wrong, I have no issues with male nurses – was just a little uncomfortable in a situation like this. I know they are professionals and it’s no biggie to them, but when a guy my age is taking care of me after a very invasive and awkward procedure like that, it just adds to my discomfort. And when he asked if we had kids and we said no, he actually said “That’s probably wise.”

“Um, that’s why I’m here,” I replied.

Sometimes I feel like banging my head against the wall.

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pre-op day

February 16th, 2011 Posted in General, Hysteroscopy, Procedures
Feb, 16 2011
5 Comments »

I’m about to leave to go to my support group, and I’m really glad it’s tonight because I don’t know if I’d make it through this evening otherwise.

I’m feeling very down and admittedly fairly whiny about having surgery tomorrow. I just did this, and it didn’t work. I can’t believe I have to go through it again.

Meanwhile everyone else keeps getting pregnant and popping out babies like it’s the simplest thing in the world. It isn’t fair. Everyone else just goes about their normal business, then happily pees on a stick a few weeks later and goes “oh my god I can’t believe it happened so fast!”

Why do I have to watch them all for so many heartbreaking years while going through surgery and procedures that may or may not work?

I’m a big believer in NEVER saying “Well, things can’t get any worse,” because I know that things can always get worse. I know there are worse things in the world. But that doesn’t make this easy to deal with.

Especially on days like today.

I went to both the RE’s office and hospital today to do my pre-op stuff. I had to go alone because D is already taking time off work tomorrow and Friday, so an extra afternoon off wasn’t very realistic. But it was depressing being there alone. While I was at the RE’s office, a family (?) came in – 2 men, 2 women, and 2 small children. I think the couple with the children was there with a couple going through IF, but I couldn’t say for sure. I was so annoyed to have to watch and listen to little kids running around the office when I was feeling so down. Then, when I was waiting at the hospital, I watched a brand new mom being brought out to her car, with her husband carrying their brand new baby. She didn’t look very happy. I felt so hopeless. And then I went to Target to pick up my pain killers for tomorrow, and saw 5 very pregnant ladies, in addition to all the moms with little kids in their carts.

I’ve been having a really crappy week, well, more like a really crappy month. I don’t know why January and February always have to be such terrible months for me. But I’m so tired of things going so badly.

We did finally find good pizza in dallas, and D took me out on valentine’s day and we had a great night despite it being a really hard day. So that’s one good thing. And I have my support group tonight. That’s another good thing.

I’m going to eat as much bread as I can get down, because I can’t eat or drink anything after midnight tonight, until I wake up from surgery around 3:30pm tomorrow. Those bread baskets will never know what hit them.

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support, expected and unexpected

February 13th, 2011 Posted in General
Feb, 13 2011
4 Comments »

Wow – I was kind of shocked when I found out that I made it onto Mel’s Friday Blog Roundup at stirrup-queens.com. It’s always so amazing and comforting to me to hear that people identify so closely with the thoughts that I write about – and the great irony is that I nearly deleted that post when I woke up the next morning. But I think that’s how it goes, a lot of the time; the things we write that are the most honest are often the things that we wonder “should I have even written/said that?” and they are so often also the things that other people can most closely relate to.

I had a fabulous English professor in college who once said something brilliant; something along the lines of “people always talk about how different we all are, but that’s BS – we are all the same.”

And that stuck with me, because it’s so true. We may not talk about the deep, dark things very often, but when we do, we find that we’re not alone.

I spent most of last year in therapy, and at one appointment, she said something that changed my life. I told her that D didn’t really understand what I was going through, didn’t know the right things to say and do, and wasn’t supportive enough, even though I knew he tried. And she said:

“You can’t find your support in him. He’ll never completely understand what you’re going through. Guys are not the same as girls. You need to seek your support in other women.”

And she was right.

It was a hard thing to let go of – the idea that my husband could be everything I needed, that he could give me all the comfort I required, that he would be the one person that understood how hard it all was – but once I did, my life changed. I sought support on online forums and in real-life support groups and in fellow bloggers, and I found women that really, truly, completely, totally got it. I can speak freely to them, and they won’t judge me. They won’t give me trite catch-phrases that “everything will be ok, it will happen when it’s meant to, you just need to relax and it will happen.” They get it. Totally. Completely.

Of course, I treasure and value the people that are not on this road, the people in my “real life,” that try their hardest to offer support and words of encouragement. They may not always say the “right” thing, but they say the things that mean the world, that they are there for us, that they are thinking of us, even that they are praying for us, even though I haven’t prayed for us in a long, long time. These people and the things that they say mean more to me than I can even begin to express.

But I’ve also found this support network that understands, and that I can talk to. When I get bad news or good news or just feel crummy, I go to them first, because I know they understand. Little things, whereas before I’d be like “who would actually want to know this?” I now know who to tell, and they know what to say. When I first found out my sister had gone into labor, my heart ached, and I thought “who can I talk to? who would understand the way I feel, and not judge me for these feelings?” and the answer came to me: the women who were going through the same thing. And I told them, and they wrote back amazing, supportive things, and it changed my day and warmed my heart. After I picked my heart off of the floor, I posted here, and after that, I went on with life. But first, I went to my support group. And it made all the difference in the world.

I don’t actually know most of the women that I “talk” to. But I know they’re there, and I know they care, and I know they understand.

And that makes all the difference in the world.

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thinking late at night, never a good thing

February 6th, 2011 Posted in General, Random
Feb, 06 2011
13 Comments »

I can’t sleep. I know that it’s mostly because of the migraine medicine I took several hours ago (which has tons of caffeine in it) but it’s also because I have so many jumbled thoughts scrambling around in my mind.

I feel like people must be tired of listening to me by now. I’m even kind of tired of listening to me at this point. I feel like I talk about it less and less, because I’ve already said it all, again and again, and it’s so old and tiresome.

Even though we’ve been trying unsuccessfully for nearly 4 years to have a child, for a long time I didn’t consider myself “infertile.” All my tests checked out fine and the only issue appeared to be with some less-than-perfect sperm. I honestly thought it would be a mater of time and a few rounds of fairly minor and not very invasive fertility treatments. I couldn’t totally relate to people who called themselves Infertiles, even though I could totally relate to what they were going through for the most part.

But now I feel that I’m really in that category and I feel that I must have some “blame” in this, even though blame really isn’t the right word.

I feel broken and I feel defective and I feel like I’m somehow not as good as other women. I know, rationally, that this is ridiculous, but I still feel this way. I can write about this inner strength that I had never realized I had, but I feel that I don’t measure up to the people who can accomplish this basic, simple human function. I feel like they matter more than me.

I know this is stupid but these feelings creep in and poke my heart and tell me there is something majorly wrong with me.

Other people have no way of understanding this. They’ll tell me that I’m wrong, and I’ll tell them that that’s true, because I know that. But I can’t help feeling like this.

We used to see a baby at the end of this long, dark tunnel. We used to have dreams and make plans. We talked about nursery plans and diapers and what it would be like. We even bought stuff. Cute baby stuff. It used to give me hope and happy thoughts. Now it just sits in closets and mocks me. Now we see surgeries and needles and doctors and operating rooms. We can dream about a positive blood test, but anything beyond that seems unrealistic and completely out of reach. Actually having a baby some day just seems like a carrot on a long, seemingly never ending stick. It seems like that will always be for other people.

Some days I don’t know what keeps me going on this path. The future is cloudy. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just because we’ve been on it so long, we don’t want to give up and let all four years be for absolutely nothing. I don’t know what our ending is and I don’t even know when it is anymore.

For now I’m left with rambling thoughts and trying to avoid the things that make me have them.

Though obviously I’m not doing a good job with that tonight.

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counting

February 3rd, 2011 Posted in Family, General, IVF, Random
Feb, 03 2011
1 Comment »

Countdown to surgery: 2 weeks, 1 hour, 30 minutes.

________________________

This morning I had to take my mom to the airport so she could visit the newest grandbaby. That was tough. Luckily the roads were covered in ice, so avoiding death was a nice distraction.

It’s still hard for me to believe that my younger sister has two children while I still have no idea if I’ll have any. Finding out she was pregnant with her second was expected but still hard. And, without setting specific goals, I thought to myself, “surely, by the time that kid gets here, I’ll have my own on the way.” Apparently even thinking that way is dangerous, but I was feeling hopeful about the most recent IUI at the time and really thought it could be nearly over.

Two weeks until my second surgery. Three months until IVF (possibly more, since you never know). And then, who knows.

Someone recently asked D: “Why don’t the doctors just start with the most ‘sure’ thing?” Meaning: “Why haven’t you just done IVF yet?” D just told him how much it costs, and I think that was explanation enough. But it’s more than that; IVF is a hard thing to go through, emotionally as well as financially.

It does bother me a little to know that there will always be people out there just thinking “Why don’t you just do IVF?” or “Why don’t you just adopt?”

There is no just. But unless people ask – and most probably won’t – they won’t know that.

These days are passing so slowly. I feel like January lasted several months.

I have more stuff to write about, but today my thoughts are scrambled. I’m tired from last night’s lack of sleep due to airport runs and I’m tired of it feeling like it’s 4 degrees outside and I’m tired of not being able to go to work because it’s closed, because it means I just lost a week of income that we needed.

For now I’m just counting down and trying to pass the time.

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