It's the 7th day since my surgery, my third day back to work. Today was a little better than yesterday. I didn't cry at all. I told a male friend at work about what happened - I like to be transparent, mainly because I can't hide my feelings for anything. So rather than leaving people wondering why my behavior is weird I prefer to let them know what's going on. Obviously not everyone is privy to my personal life, but there are several people at work who know. So I told L, not that we're particularly close but we've known each other for several months and he's one of the first people I befriended here. He was sympathetic, and opened up about his own struggles with infertility. His child was conceived via IVF, so he is the second IVF success story that I'm aware of.
I've had a hard time concentrating at work. I'm not really interested in much, I don't even care to catch up on my reading despite knowing that it'll probably make me feel better. Lunch is spent in my office, with the lights off and the blinds drawn, lying on the ground trying to take a nap. I think I'm doing an alright job of maintaining at work. I do my job, I'm polite and smile and joke. It's exhausting but I manage.
All I want to do is curl up in a blanket by myself and sleep. I want to take a Tylenol 3 and drift off and dream and not have to worry about anything. I don't want to be bothered. There aren't any tears. Just numbness.
There are things I can do that may help make me feel better. I can get back to exercising and working out. Well, probably just running. The endorphins will make me feel good, and seeing the resulting weight loss will help. Achieving personal records and running distances will give me a sense of accomplishment. I don't anticipate getting to the gym for weight training anytime soon. Not that I don't want to but ever since hubs started his courier job I've been stuck with picking up the kid from school most evenings, and that just doesn't leave any time for the gym. Now that the time has changed it's already dark by the time I get to the school, so running outdoors isn't really an option at that point.
I can immerse myself in reading - hahahahhaah, yeah right. I barely have time to focus on my life and work responsibilities.
What's dangerous about this depression is that I don't really care about a lot right. Obviously I care about my career, and I care about my child, but....that's about it. And that's a dangerous place to be. No that I'm in danger of harming myself at all, but I'm more so concerned that my lack of giving a damn may irreparably harm relationships with those around me. I may not care right now but what if that's the depression affecting me?
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
Monday, November 5, 2018
Coping
Today was my first day back to work since having surgery and I very much regret not taking the day off. I couldn't concentrate worth a damn. The first hour or so of work was spent trying not to cry, but then I got into my workflow and was good for a while until lunch time. That's when I shut off the lights in my office, locked the door and hosted my very own pity party.
I've been torn between wanting to tell people about what's going on and not wanting to relive the story over and over again. On the one hand I want to share my pain to release all of these feelings of frustration and impotence but on the other hand I can't help but think - these people don't care, why open up to them? Why do other people need to know? What can they offer me besides pity?
I don't even want to talk to my Friends about it. I've told them the basics but I don't feel comfortable sharing my secret feelings: how I feel purpose-less, like everything I've worked toward is gone now, how I'm second-guessing my marriage, and how I wonder if maybe this is a sign telling me that this relationship is fruitless and should be pruned.
I've spent the past 4 years preparing for another child. I've gotten healthier, lost weight, eaten better. Got a new job, moved to another state, and found a better employer that provides paid maternity leave, I've held on to my son's nursery furniture and stroller with the intention of using it for the next one. Those plans have been blown away by cruel reality.
I can't believe that I'm only going to get the one kid. I love him more than anything, but I had always planned for him to have siblings. Years ago, back in 2010 when I was pregnant, I wanted 3 or 4 kids. Can you believe that? I don't even like kids all that much, but I wanted a large family. I still do. I feel that having a solo kid is unfair, that people learn vital lessons by sharing their lives and growing old with brothers and sisters. I have one sister, and growing up it was always a competition between the two of us. The adults around us pitted us against each other unfairly. She's this way, therefore the other is this way - like we were a dichotomy or something. I feel like that unfairly molded us in ways that we wouldn't necessarily have grown on our own. Having three or more kids would remove that tendency to polarize, it just isn't as easy to do when it's more than 2. Plus I was thinking ahead to my retirement. It's easier/cheaper to take care of an elderly parent when the cost is split between 3 people right? I'd imagine spending my elder years surrounded by my grandchildren, sharing stories of how the world worked when I was their age.
This is so unfair. At least it isn't an issue of having waited too long to conceive, that's a common concern for women in their 30s. I've had the testing done, I've got the ovarian reserve, my eggs are fine. It's my chewed up uterus that's the problem. Thanks a lot Dr. Welch!! (I know I shouldn't blame the Obstetrician, but she's the one who cut up my uterus and caused the scar tissue. Let me be childish in peace).
You know what, I haven't really talked to my husband about it. I asked him how he feels. We were in bed, had just turned off the lights. I find it easier to initiate deeper conversations when the lights are out. He told me that he was sad, and disappointed, but that's about as far as that conversation went. I wish he could communicate his thoughts better. I didn't delve into the matter. Prior experience tells me that I'll only get annoyed and angry, and I don't have the energy for all of that. I could write an entire blog about the lack of communication in our relationship, but I won't go there. I'm just going to say that it would be nice to share this with someone and to have my feelings validated. Maybe I'd like to know what his point of view is and how he feels every thing.
Well this is enough for tonight. Let's pray that tomorrow is better than today was. I wish I had an antidepressant on hand that I could take, but even if I did it would probably take a few weeks for it to take effect. Anyway, thanks for reading.
I've been torn between wanting to tell people about what's going on and not wanting to relive the story over and over again. On the one hand I want to share my pain to release all of these feelings of frustration and impotence but on the other hand I can't help but think - these people don't care, why open up to them? Why do other people need to know? What can they offer me besides pity?
I don't even want to talk to my Friends about it. I've told them the basics but I don't feel comfortable sharing my secret feelings: how I feel purpose-less, like everything I've worked toward is gone now, how I'm second-guessing my marriage, and how I wonder if maybe this is a sign telling me that this relationship is fruitless and should be pruned.
I've spent the past 4 years preparing for another child. I've gotten healthier, lost weight, eaten better. Got a new job, moved to another state, and found a better employer that provides paid maternity leave, I've held on to my son's nursery furniture and stroller with the intention of using it for the next one. Those plans have been blown away by cruel reality.
I can't believe that I'm only going to get the one kid. I love him more than anything, but I had always planned for him to have siblings. Years ago, back in 2010 when I was pregnant, I wanted 3 or 4 kids. Can you believe that? I don't even like kids all that much, but I wanted a large family. I still do. I feel that having a solo kid is unfair, that people learn vital lessons by sharing their lives and growing old with brothers and sisters. I have one sister, and growing up it was always a competition between the two of us. The adults around us pitted us against each other unfairly. She's this way, therefore the other is this way - like we were a dichotomy or something. I feel like that unfairly molded us in ways that we wouldn't necessarily have grown on our own. Having three or more kids would remove that tendency to polarize, it just isn't as easy to do when it's more than 2. Plus I was thinking ahead to my retirement. It's easier/cheaper to take care of an elderly parent when the cost is split between 3 people right? I'd imagine spending my elder years surrounded by my grandchildren, sharing stories of how the world worked when I was their age.
This is so unfair. At least it isn't an issue of having waited too long to conceive, that's a common concern for women in their 30s. I've had the testing done, I've got the ovarian reserve, my eggs are fine. It's my chewed up uterus that's the problem. Thanks a lot Dr. Welch!! (I know I shouldn't blame the Obstetrician, but she's the one who cut up my uterus and caused the scar tissue. Let me be childish in peace).
You know what, I haven't really talked to my husband about it. I asked him how he feels. We were in bed, had just turned off the lights. I find it easier to initiate deeper conversations when the lights are out. He told me that he was sad, and disappointed, but that's about as far as that conversation went. I wish he could communicate his thoughts better. I didn't delve into the matter. Prior experience tells me that I'll only get annoyed and angry, and I don't have the energy for all of that. I could write an entire blog about the lack of communication in our relationship, but I won't go there. I'm just going to say that it would be nice to share this with someone and to have my feelings validated. Maybe I'd like to know what his point of view is and how he feels every thing.
Well this is enough for tonight. Let's pray that tomorrow is better than today was. I wish I had an antidepressant on hand that I could take, but even if I did it would probably take a few weeks for it to take effect. Anyway, thanks for reading.
Sunday, November 4, 2018
Secondary Infertility
Do you know what the term secondary infertility means? Everyone knows that infertility is when someone cannot achieve a pregnancy. Secondary refers to the fact that it's a new onset condition . I have conceived before, back in 2012 but have not been able to conceive a pregnancy since then. Not even a false positive, no miscarriages, nothing. For the longest time I've chickened out of investigating why. It took us 2 years of trying before being able to conceive the first time, so initially I wasn't too concerned about it. I had some difficulties with the delivery; my water broke at 35 weeks, and I had to have a c-section. After I was discharged from the hospital I had to go back due to my blood pressure being too high. My child was small-for-gestational age, and my placenta was really small. I blamed the doctor for not monitoring me closely enough.
At the time I was in a terrible work environment that just wasn't family friendly, so I told myself that once I was out of that situation I'd try again. Well. Here we are, after 4 years of trying unsuccessfully. I finally revisited the problem. Had my hormone levels checked which indicated that I'm ovulating like normal, so that's was reassuring. My NP ordered an HSG (Hysterosalpingogram), which indicated that there was a blockage of some sort. That really threw me for a loop. As far as I knew at the time, blockages could be caused by scar tissue and I had never had any kind of infection that would cause scar tissue. I went to see a specialist and had a surgical procedure done. This procedure is called a Tubal Dye Study, where they basically inject dye up through the cervix into the uterus while at the same time watching to see if the dye exits the fallopian tubes. I just had this done 3 days ago, and haven't yet spoken to the surgeon since that morning.
Apparently both of my fallopian tubes are occluded. Excuse the lack of details, I received this information second-hand from my husband. The surgeon came out and talked to him, and I guess she'll talk to me directly when I see her for my post-op visit. He tried, but he doesn't have much of a medical background and a lot of it went over his head. She told hubs that I had a lot of scar tissue in the area; some from the c-section I had in 2012 and some from an appendicitis that had healed on it's own (and I wasn't even aware of, weird). The occlusions are such that my only option for pregnancy is in-vitro (IVF).
In all of these years of trying to conceive, my line in the sand has always been at in-vitro. I've tried Clomid, I've tried letrozole, I was willing to try intra-uterine insemination (IUI) which is when the sperm are collected and inserted into the uterus just in time for ovulation. I'm not interested in in-vitro at this time. I've known several women who have gone through IVF, not all of them resulted in viable healthy pregnancies. There's so many medications and injections to take, ultrasounds on ultrasounds. The mood swings, the cystic acne, it just isn't worth it to me. I firmly believe that if it is God's will for me to get pregnant I will, without strong-arming my body into it.
This is so unfair. Apparently as much as 30% of women who have had a c-section are not able to conceive again due to scarring of the uterus. I've always held conflicted feelings about my first OBGYN, and my entire peri-natal experience but this really takes it over the top. I was not aware of that. Even as a health care provider I wasn't aware of that statistic. I don't think many people are aware of it either, if they were I'm sure that the c-section rate would be much lower than it is now in the U.S..
Is it not ironic? At work I see patients with fertility concerns and I order testing for them before referring them to a specialist. Now here I am, infertile.
I'm trying my best to not dwell on it too much, while at the same time giving myself room to grieve. This is beyond difficult. I just want to stay in bed and mope and cry but of course I can't. I don't want to talk about it. Some of my friends know, but not all of them. I've said it out loud and via text messages several times already. I don't need any more sympathy or prayers. I don't want anyone's pity. That's all they can offer, sympathy and pity.
God, thank you for giving me my son, my favorite person in the world. As much as I've wished for another baby, as much as I've desired a baby girl that looks like me and my dreams of mommy-daughter outfits and hair styles and first birthday parties - I see now that this is not my path, not at this time or in this way, and I accept your will. Please let me be a good mother to my son, I pray for the wisdom and discernment to make the best decisions for him, so that he may grow up to be a good person and to live his life in a Christ-like way (Looking out for the poor, the disadvantaged, the widowed, etc). Maybe I can have a bunch of grandkids some day. That would be nice.
At the time I was in a terrible work environment that just wasn't family friendly, so I told myself that once I was out of that situation I'd try again. Well. Here we are, after 4 years of trying unsuccessfully. I finally revisited the problem. Had my hormone levels checked which indicated that I'm ovulating like normal, so that's was reassuring. My NP ordered an HSG (Hysterosalpingogram), which indicated that there was a blockage of some sort. That really threw me for a loop. As far as I knew at the time, blockages could be caused by scar tissue and I had never had any kind of infection that would cause scar tissue. I went to see a specialist and had a surgical procedure done. This procedure is called a Tubal Dye Study, where they basically inject dye up through the cervix into the uterus while at the same time watching to see if the dye exits the fallopian tubes. I just had this done 3 days ago, and haven't yet spoken to the surgeon since that morning.
Apparently both of my fallopian tubes are occluded. Excuse the lack of details, I received this information second-hand from my husband. The surgeon came out and talked to him, and I guess she'll talk to me directly when I see her for my post-op visit. He tried, but he doesn't have much of a medical background and a lot of it went over his head. She told hubs that I had a lot of scar tissue in the area; some from the c-section I had in 2012 and some from an appendicitis that had healed on it's own (and I wasn't even aware of, weird). The occlusions are such that my only option for pregnancy is in-vitro (IVF).
In all of these years of trying to conceive, my line in the sand has always been at in-vitro. I've tried Clomid, I've tried letrozole, I was willing to try intra-uterine insemination (IUI) which is when the sperm are collected and inserted into the uterus just in time for ovulation. I'm not interested in in-vitro at this time. I've known several women who have gone through IVF, not all of them resulted in viable healthy pregnancies. There's so many medications and injections to take, ultrasounds on ultrasounds. The mood swings, the cystic acne, it just isn't worth it to me. I firmly believe that if it is God's will for me to get pregnant I will, without strong-arming my body into it.
This is so unfair. Apparently as much as 30% of women who have had a c-section are not able to conceive again due to scarring of the uterus. I've always held conflicted feelings about my first OBGYN, and my entire peri-natal experience but this really takes it over the top. I was not aware of that. Even as a health care provider I wasn't aware of that statistic. I don't think many people are aware of it either, if they were I'm sure that the c-section rate would be much lower than it is now in the U.S..
Is it not ironic? At work I see patients with fertility concerns and I order testing for them before referring them to a specialist. Now here I am, infertile.
I'm trying my best to not dwell on it too much, while at the same time giving myself room to grieve. This is beyond difficult. I just want to stay in bed and mope and cry but of course I can't. I don't want to talk about it. Some of my friends know, but not all of them. I've said it out loud and via text messages several times already. I don't need any more sympathy or prayers. I don't want anyone's pity. That's all they can offer, sympathy and pity.
God, thank you for giving me my son, my favorite person in the world. As much as I've wished for another baby, as much as I've desired a baby girl that looks like me and my dreams of mommy-daughter outfits and hair styles and first birthday parties - I see now that this is not my path, not at this time or in this way, and I accept your will. Please let me be a good mother to my son, I pray for the wisdom and discernment to make the best decisions for him, so that he may grow up to be a good person and to live his life in a Christ-like way (Looking out for the poor, the disadvantaged, the widowed, etc). Maybe I can have a bunch of grandkids some day. That would be nice.
Monday, October 29, 2018
It's all temporary
Talking to my mom today, when the topic of death came up. Specifically we were talking about Pixie, her 14 year old Yorkie. Poor Pixie can't see or hear much anymore. She has cataracts in both eyes, and I'm pretty sure that her vision is better than her hearing. She's missing teeth and her breath smells like rot. Mom can't really do much about her oral hygiene because her mouth is so small. Pixie is only about 5 lbs. Mom was telling me how Pixie must have thought that the bedroom nightstand was Mom, because she was reaching up trying to be picked up by it. Pixie has been Mom's baby for ever. So we were talking about Pixie, and how she's slowly breaking down and is likely going to die soon. I started thinking about how Mom will cope when Pixie dies, and then started thinking about how Death impacts the lives of those it takes but for everyone else nothing changes. I'll be honest, I was thinking about how it'll be sad when Pixie dies but that it won't really be a loss for me even though Mom will be devastated. Then of course I started thinking about when Mom dies, how my life will be forever and irrevocably changed but the rest of the world will continue on as always has. Death is a normal and natural part of life. People die every day, every hour. Every second someone loses their mom, their child, their sibling, their friend. That's just the way life is.
I can't yet tease out how that makes me feel: is this coming to term with my own mortality? Is recognizing your parents' mortality a checkpoint in life? I'm to the point where I know my mother is going to die early, much earlier than I had ever thought she would. And I will be devastated. I've spent most of my adulthood away from her but I've always known that she was there as a safety net in case things didn't work out. Soon I won't have that anymore.
She was diagnosed in January 2017. I imagined myself as a kite without it's string, tossed around by strong winds and no way to get back home. What would I even consider "home" to be without my mom. She's always been home base. Without her, where do I go? Where do I belong?
And what of her? She has lived this life, she has had these experiences, she has sacrificed and worked so hard and yet has not been able to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Any dream of indulgent twilight years has been slowly smothered by an insidious persistent cough.
She's getting worse. I can tell. We talk every day, and I ask how she's feeling or how she's been and her response is always "I'm alright". She's not alright.
So, just as Mom is going to mourn Pixie's death one day and the world won't blink. I'm going to mourn my mother's death, and the world won't blink.
I can't yet tease out how that makes me feel: is this coming to term with my own mortality? Is recognizing your parents' mortality a checkpoint in life? I'm to the point where I know my mother is going to die early, much earlier than I had ever thought she would. And I will be devastated. I've spent most of my adulthood away from her but I've always known that she was there as a safety net in case things didn't work out. Soon I won't have that anymore.
She was diagnosed in January 2017. I imagined myself as a kite without it's string, tossed around by strong winds and no way to get back home. What would I even consider "home" to be without my mom. She's always been home base. Without her, where do I go? Where do I belong?
And what of her? She has lived this life, she has had these experiences, she has sacrificed and worked so hard and yet has not been able to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Any dream of indulgent twilight years has been slowly smothered by an insidious persistent cough.
She's getting worse. I can tell. We talk every day, and I ask how she's feeling or how she's been and her response is always "I'm alright". She's not alright.
So, just as Mom is going to mourn Pixie's death one day and the world won't blink. I'm going to mourn my mother's death, and the world won't blink.
Friday, October 26, 2018
Hello Stranger
Well well would you look who’s here. I forgot this thing was still here! The very last post was about finding out that I was pregnant. Wow. Funny how things change. Don’t worry, I’m not interested in condensing six years worth of life events.
I had shared an interesting news headline with a friend, it was about “singing” coming from polar ice as it melted. The notion resonated with me and I imagined that the melting ice was uncovering a prehistoric remnant that would bring harm to humanity. I think there was an episode of x-files with a similar premise; something frozen in ice that was unleashed and started killing people. I sent the story to him, and we started talking about writing. He’s a writer, or he ought to be writing but he doesn’t. And I am an imaginative person, but not a writer. But I think it would be fun to chronicle my ideas. So here I am!
Well, not right at this moment. I’m too sleepy to attempt anything right now.
I had shared an interesting news headline with a friend, it was about “singing” coming from polar ice as it melted. The notion resonated with me and I imagined that the melting ice was uncovering a prehistoric remnant that would bring harm to humanity. I think there was an episode of x-files with a similar premise; something frozen in ice that was unleashed and started killing people. I sent the story to him, and we started talking about writing. He’s a writer, or he ought to be writing but he doesn’t. And I am an imaginative person, but not a writer. But I think it would be fun to chronicle my ideas. So here I am!
Well, not right at this moment. I’m too sleepy to attempt anything right now.
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