What I Want

Infertility continues to beat the entire shit out of me. She is the worse abuser. Not only are her kicks and punches indescribably painful, but they’re well placed. I know they’re there. I feel the impact, but none of it is visible to the naked eye.

I just wish I had one friend, one family member who could or would hold my hand and let me cry. I don’t want to hear I’m sorry. I just want someone to say, “Fuck this shit. Fuck infertility. Let’s go drink and pout.” I want them to be angry with me and okay with my anger. I know that’s a lot to ask of people. We always want to make others feel better. I’m guilty of it too.

It looks as if we have finally diagnosed my infertility: fibroids, endometriosis and bad tubes. Perhaps I would have become a mother, if I had caught the tube thing earlier. It doesn’t matter now because to top it off, my eggs aged prematurely.

I thought I didn’t have anymore tears to give this, but here I sit. Crying. It’s ugly. It’s a tear-stained, puffy, snot-falling cry. I know this is not a punishment from God, but it certainly feels like it. This certainly feels like more than I was ever meant to bear. How does one find authentic joy when their body has betrayed them so?

The answer to that question doesn't matter anymore. This long, dramatic, ridiculous chapter of my life is over. I'd like to say that I finally have the strength to walk away, but that's not the truth. I'm just out of weapons. I'm defeated. It's not the way I wanted it to end, but at least I can say I fought - no matter how un-valiantly - I definitely fought...to a fault and likely to my detriment.

Keeps Getting Better

My life just keeps getting better.  I had to drop my pants in the doctor's office so my husband could give me my first estrogen shot in the butt.  OMG!

It was quite embarrassing, but it didn't hurt at all.  He has to give me these lovely shots every three days for the next two weeks.  I feared I'd have to give myself at least one of the shots because I'm going out of town.  However, it works out that hubby can give me a shot right before I leave and I'll be due for another when I return.  THANK GOODNESS.  There's no way I could have handled that.
Ok...I guess I could handle that, but I don't want to. I admire the self-shooters.  They are a brave batch of women.  I am a chicken.

Binge Interrupted

Sooo the hubby told me that I needed to at least contact my doctor's office to let them know that my new cycle started.  That's what interrupted my high from the caffeine and alcohol binge.  The doctor insisted that I come in for a consult.  I didn't want to. I already told you about her over-the-top optimism plus, I didn't want to pay her any money.

She forced her staff to find a slot for us today.  Per usual, I paid her money to break my heart. Today she informed me that basically the majority of my eggs are rotten.  She said if she harvested ten eggs from the average healthy woman of my age, she would expect five of them to be fantastic.  In my case, she expects only two will have a chance of being successfully fertilized, implanted and born free of defects (yup, I said defects).

My new thing is to cry over any damn thing, so I got all teary-eyed again.  She said we should probably be more aggressive and by that she meant the dreaded IVF.  Yay for test tube babies!  Because she knows the quality of my eggs sucks, she would want to test the eggs before implanting them in me...if we ever reach that point.

Because I am always counting money (that's what you do when you don't have any), I asked the cost. The estimate? $22,000 for one damn try. I don't have money like that!  It would take me another year-and-a-half to save up what I need to reach that astronomical amount.

My perpetually positive husband is all like, "Let's do it!" Pssh! Whatever.  He went on to basically say if it was a car, I wouldn't think this hard. I reminded him that if it was a car, I'd know for sure it would run.  Plus, the car would have a warranty and a 60-month loan readily available.  This crap does not come with a guarantee, a warranty or a reasonable loan.  Where will this $22,000 magically come from?

Now that I've depressed you with my whining, here's the positive: At least she was straight foward and didn't string me along.  Oh, she also told me not to call my eggs rotten, but I've always been an advocate for calling a snake a snake.

With all of that said, I guess I better start playing the damn lottery. I need to win in oh...like three months.

Facing the Truth

I knew something was wrong early on. I'd never been on birth control pills and though we weren't "trying," I should have gotten pregnant because there was no prevention. I kind of spoke to DH about it and expressed my concerns to doctors. Since the doctors kept saying I was healthy, DH said don't worry. 

Well, then our best friends became pregnant and I had a breakdown because I KNEW something was wrong with us. After three years of marriage, my husband no longer wanted to wait for a "chance" pregnancy and said he wanted to actually ttc. We did...AND nothing. 

While we tried, the besties had a SECOND child. In fact, DH kept that pregnancy a secret from me. We lived across the country from them and really, he's best friends with the husband. The wife and are besties by association, so it was easy to keep that from me.  

I finally switched Gynecologists (new doc, same office) and told the new one my concerns. He gave me the same "young & healthy" speech, but I told him I didn't believe it. SO he scheduled blood work and an ultrasound. 

I went in. Blood work: no problem. I'm a big girl. I took that needle like a champ. Ultrasound: PROBLEM! Yes, I went to college, but NO..no one told me that there could be an "internal" ultrasound. I watch tv and thought this bad boy would be on top of my stomach. So when homegirl pulled out a wand and put a condom and lube on it, I was thinking, "whaaaaaaat?!"

I know rape is a powerful word, so I will tone it down and say I was violated with that wand and as I laid there making jokes about myself in my mind, the technician goes," OH,that's a big fibroid.  There's another AND you have a cyst on your ovary." I don't cry in front of strangers, so I had to think of dumb stuff to get through this. I thought to myself, "dang your uterus is a freaking landfill!"

She went on to tell me that the largest of the fibroids was a good size. So with that info, I headed to the doctor.  He told me black women seem to be at a greater risk for fibroids and science hadn't figured out why yet. BUT he said the fibroids likely weren't impeding pregnancy and I should just get to the fun part of trying. He said it with a smirk and I wanted to slap it off his face. What did he think, we weren't trying? Anyway, he set up a second appointment for more blood work and another ultrasound. 

The second visit left me just as angry. The blood work was great.  my hormone levels were good and it appeared that I am ovulating. BUT that ultrasound was more than I could handle. This time I got a technician who lacked tact and a good bedside manner. When she saw my largest fibroid, she asked me in rude tone how I couldn't feel it. She said it was so big, I should have felt it. It was like she was mad at me. 

I thought to myself," sorry, lady. I come here every year and every year YOU jerks say everything was fine. No problems. It took me begging for fertility checks to find it in the first place!"

SOO after HER, I went back into the doctor's office. I told him that I was very concerned because the technician seemed to think my fibroid was a major problem. He made it like it was no big deal. I went on to ask him if maybe we should get the thing out. My mom and aunts all had theirs removed in their 40s. He said I should try to get pregnant first because I would have to wait 8 months after surgery to ttc.   Once again, he told me to do the fun stuff and "try." 

I left devastated. I decided I hated him and ttcing...and I was just going to give up. I was pretty damned depressed, but because I was always taught to smile, no one knew my pain.