RenovationGirl

What Would You Do?

On our way to the appointment, we made a decision: we would not pursue any procedures because we could not afford to.  We have already spent $40,000 on procedures that didn't work and we are maxed out.  So, no procedures. What we wanted was information.  What did this RE (for you fertile people, that's a Reproductive Endocrinologist-an infertility specialist) think of all that we had done at the last place. What would he do different?  What did he think of our fertility?

Going in, I wasn't sure if I was more terrified of the RE  telling us that the last place had done all that could be done for us or if he told us that there was something we could do and then we couldn't afford to do it.  After the exam and consult, we walked out feeling a bit shell-shocked.

He felt that our last doctor did too much too fast.  That he had skipped an obvious course of treatment that could have enhanced our fertility naturally.  He questioned much of what was done, then with a sigh, put away that file. 

Let me go back a  little bit....seven years ago, we had been trying for over a year with no luck conceiving.  My SIL recommended her doctor who had helped her have three children.  We went to see him and after a battery of test and an exam, the doctor determined that I had endometriosis and that surgery was in order.  If you know me personally, you know the rest.  As I sat in the pre-op room, waiting for my surgery, a nurse came over with a quizzical look on her face and asked, "Is there a chance you could be pregnant?"  I laughed.  You know, in that "you've got to be joking" way.  I told her that the reason I was having the surgery was that I couldn't get pregnant.  "OH!" she said. "Well, there were trace HCG elements in your urine sample so we sent it to the lab for further testing."  I was stunned.  She recommended I not get my hopes up (I wasn't) and called my family back to sit with me.  When I told Remodel Man, he didn't believe it.  We wait, only to be told thirty minutes later that the surgery was unnecessary...I was pregnant.  While not realistic or logical, we firmly believe that this doctor had a hand in this pregnancy, even though he hadn't really done anything.  He helped maintain the pregnancy (terrifying progesterone drop at seven weeks) and we are forever grateful to him for our Builder Boy.  When it came time to deal with the secondary infertility, due to a few issues, we were unable to go to him.  We ended up at a nationally known practice, and while I have no doubt we received good medical care, the patient care wasn't the best.  So, when I found myself pregnant a year and a half ago, it was the first doctor we went back to.  Let's call him Dr. ABC.  He helped me through that first miscarriage, then monitored the next pregnancy, discovered the molar pregnancy, and performed the D&C. 

So, now back to the present.  Dr. ABC told us that he feels the endometriosis is hindering our fertility.  He feels that it also was a factor in my early miscarriage.  He feels that by surgically removing the endometriosis, we will have "high chances of conceiving a child."  And then he clarified that for him "conceiving" means "delivering a healthy baby."  One laparoscopic surgery.  4-7 days recovery.  Does this fall under the "we can't afford to do it" fear? 

Nope.  It's covered by insurance.  We can do it the first week of May.  And while I know I will choose to do this, I wonder, what would you do?  Do you risk going back to "the dark place" of infertility for a chance at what you have only dreamed about?  Or do you walk away and enjoy the life you have now? 

Yeah, We're Back to This

A colleague peeked her head into my room, "Are you okay?" she said, with a look of concern.

Breathe in, breathe out. 

"Yes, thanks.  I'm okay.  I have to be, right?" I joke.  But the joke falls flat at the feet of someone who knows me and my struggles far better than that.

"Okay, well, if you need to talk..." she waved her hand in that all-encompassing gesture and closed the door behind her.

I sat down and considered the events of the past 45 minutes.  A year ago, I would be trying to hold back the tears, my stomach churning, my heart throbbing in my chest, and in my abdomen...emptiness.  But now, a year or so later, I just sit pensively, slightly irritated, a bit out of breath, but otherwise, fine.  Just fine.  Because what choice do I have?

Forty-five minutes before this, a young colleague of mine, still practically a newlywed, caught me as I was literally running out of the faculty room, late for my class as usual.  I had just run down to grab a calming cup of tea, reheated for the third time, to help me make it through this next energetic, yet lovable group of teens.  Today we would be discussing the ending of Macbeth and they were eager to get started.  (Ahem,okay, allow me this little bit of fiction-of course they were not eager...)  "Renovation Girl?" I paused mid-stride and turned around.  "I've started to announce it so I wanted to tell you personally..."

My heart lurched.  You all know where this is headed.  If you're infertile, you've been here before, standing in my shoes as time stops and you wonder, "How will I get through it this time?" She cracked a smile and giggled, "I'm having a baby!" and then she searched my face in concern, wondering how this old, infertile body would respond.  "Funny," I thought to myself, "I'm wondering how I will respond, too."

Cue the theater degree...House lights dim to a fuzzy brown, the thick, red velvet curtains slowly part to reveal a foggy stage.  As the fog clears, you begin to see the shape of a woman, clearly broken, but standing still, looking straight ahead, a non-committal smile plastered on her face.

"OH, colleague!!!!!" I said, running over to her.  "That's wonderful!  This is wonderful, isn't it?" She nods an enthusiastic, "Yes!"  I hug her.  "We'll have to talk later because I'm a late for class, but I can't wait to hear all about it! Congratulations!!!!"

I exhale slowly as I now walk gingerly to my classroom. 

This time the announcement affects me differently.  I normally focus on the  baby that will come...the sweet smell of sleeping baby, the soft skin that nuzzles your neck, the first smiles and giggles, watching the wonder of life unfold through your baby's eyes.  But this time, as I walk away from my glowing colleague, it's the pregnancy that I miss.  I miss the flutters of movement.  The swooshing of the heartbeat on the ultrasound screen.  The way I felt productive and fulfilled.  I felt a part of everything around me.  There was life inside me.  And it was amazing.

And now I feel empty. 

In most ways, we have moved on.  I have started to give away some baby things.  We are piling up items to sell.  I am able to get through pregnancy and baby announcements.  I am able to see a newborn without fighting tears. When my period comes, I am disappointed, but not surprised or devastated.  It is still difficult to watch Builder Boy without a sibling, but as he grows more and more independent each day, I know that he will be okay alone. 

But I still scheduled that follow-up appointment with my infertility doctor for Wednesday.  I'm not sure why.  We have no money to do anything. But he wasn't the doctor with whom we did our IUI's and IVF's.   I want his expertise to let us know what he thinks is wrong and what he would do differently if he had been our doctor at that time. 

So, yeah, we're back to this again. 

Oscillation

Isn't that a great word-oscillate?  I had an oscillating fan at my first apartment...it was great to keep the air moving around on those oppressively hot days-back and forth, back and forth, bach and forth.  It soon developed a squeak that no WD-40 could remove.  It was annoying, but on those unfortunately on those oppressively hot days, a squeak was better than a wall of heat. 

I feel a little bit like that squeaky oscillating fan.  I find myself shifting back and forth between who I am and who I want to be.  I  make strides to who I want to be, but get pushed back when reality shoves its way in.  Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. 

I recently stumbled across a blog title (and can't find the link again!!) that discussed finding herself  in motherhood.  This is a common problem when you go from woman to mother.  You lose sight of who you are and how you fit into this world besides being a "mom."  I joke about "what I want to be when I grow up."  I don't have an answer to that, but I do know how I want to live and how that is nothing like how I am living. 

How am I living?  Tired.  Paycheck to paycheck.  I'm not reading enough or attending enough cultural events.  I'm not eating as well as I should and I'm not exercising at all.  My house is a disorganized, cluttered, and dirty disaster.  I don't spend enough time with my friends or doing the creative activities that make me peaceful.  Our lives lack structure and therefore discipline. I feel unfulfilled and insecure and static.

How do I want to live?  I want to have some financial security.  I want to scrapbook, write, read great books, hand-stamp cards.  I want to cook healthy meals (mostly from scratch) and exercise regularly.  I want to organize my home.  I want to visit (and be visited!) by friends.  I want to feel fulfilled and secure and dynamic. 

But every time I make great strides towards how I want to live, some obstacles get in my way.  Plans are foiled.  Disappointments abound.  When that does happen, it holds me down, makes me feel incapable of overcoming and I stagnate. 

As I watch my son play with my husband on this unseasonably warm April night, I know that before I know it, my little guy will be on his own, living his own life.  I need to figure out who I am and how to live this life now. 

How do you do it?  How do you live the life you want with the obstacles that have been placed in your path?

Blog Friends

I fought starting a blog for years.  BBM tried and tried to get me to do it, with her or by myself, but I just thought it was sort of weird.  Then I started reading infertility blogs and was amazed that people were out there saying all the feelings I felt in my heart.  So I started reading, and reading and reading.  Eventually I started my own blog and started commenting a bit, too. When people started reading and commenting, it was validating and comforting.  People out there in cyber land were going through the same things I was and they understood. 

The longer you blog, the more blog friends you have.  These are people that I have never met in real life, yet there they are, cheering me on, holding my hand, and comforting me during some of my darkest moments. 

One of the first blogs I started reading was Are We There Yet.  She is a remarkable woman who has been through so much and yet always, always, always has a profoundly honest and optimistic outlook on life.  A few years ago, as she was about the pull her name from the fostering to adopt program, she received a phone call that there was a little boy who needed a home.  He was merely days old.  I remember running into the living room to tell my husband about her.  This good news, this miraculous news was something I wanted to share.  I was so filled with joy for her. 

Today, though, my heart is filled with sorrow and concern.  Her adorable and amazing son, now almost three, has been diagnosed with a rare and terminal illness.  And yet, her post today shows just what an amazing and incredible woman she is.    If you are so inclined, please say some prayers for all of them today.  Please think positive thoughts.  Please pray for the researchers who are searching for a cure and the organizations working to fund these researchers. 

And to my bloggy friend, we are all here lifting you up and holding your hand.  We are ready to fight this fight with you.