This was passed along to me by a friend who shares my same struggle. It’s a glimpse inside the world of infertility...
Anyone who has lived inside that world will relate to the words of this song (and may want to grab a kleenex before watching the video - I learned that the hard way).
Friday, June 29, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
Ouch! The Surgery.
Preparing for surgery: What an adventure this was. From IV holes in my hands to the “support hose” on my legs, all the way down to the air compressed booties on my feet, this was certainly something new. I felt like some kind of astronaut with all of my “gear”. And, of course, Ryan was by my side taking pictures of the whole experience on his cell phone. Gotta love a comedian...
The lady bruised both hands trying to get the IV in, but she
the other side of the OR...
The lady bruised both hands trying to get the IV in, but she called me "petite" so I let it slide.
and I was ready to go!
Soon it was time to wheel me into the OR. As we turned the corner, I saw a large dry-erase board to my right. Just like in Gray’s Anatomy, names were written under each room. I looked for my name frantically but before I could find it, I was whisked away in no time and into OR Room 2.
In the OR: I was asked to move myself from the gurney over to the operating table. Not exactly the easiest thing to do, but I managed to do it with whatever grace and dignity I had left (Although I’m pretty sure the anesthesiologist got a show in the process). Above me hung two lights the size of pizza pans. The room seemed empty and sterile. Then I was given some sort-of drug that made me feel loopy, which scared me. So, of course, I cried. Not the weepy, sobbing kind-of cry but a sad, pitiful cry – no sound, tears only. My right arm was stretched to the side with the IV and my left arm had the blood pressure cuff, which meant the nurse had to wipe my tears. How humiliating.
It only took a minute and I got myself together. Dr. Synn was fashionably late (what’s new) so I tried to make small talk with the nurses through my oxygen mask. Soon I heard that the Doctor had arrived. Next thing I knew, a cold feeling ran up through my right arm and I felt like I was slipping away. I actually said “thank you” to the anesthesiologist and waved goodbye to the nurses with my free hand. I am such a dork.
After the surgery: Now, I had told Ryan that I dreaded this part of the day. I told him how awful I would feel when waking up from surgery. I told him I would be tired, but uncomfortable, cold and nauseous. He said that it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it would be. He said it would be like waking up from a long nap. I’ll let you guess who was right…
As soon as I could open my eyes, I began asking whatever nurse was beside me, “Did I have endometriosis?” over and over. The problem was that my mouth hadn’t woken up yet so it sounded more like “Diidihaveendometriosis?? DIIDIHAVEENDOMETRIOSIS???” Needless to say, it took about 5 minutes for her to figure out what I was saying.
She looked at my chart and told me, no. There was no mention of endometriosis. I was crushed and barely listened to the rest of what she said while I cried silently for about a half an hour. Meanwhile, she tried to convince me that it was a good thing, that I didn’t want endometriosis, that this means I’m healthy. All I could think was I did this for nothing.
That’s when the nausea set in. I’ll spare you the details as you can probably imagine what it feels like to throw-up repeatedly for hours on a completely empty stomach that has just been cut into and patched back together. They normally expect you to be in the recovery room for about an hour and I was there almost four. Finally, I made it home and, you know what? I think I made it through pretty well. I was walking on my own that same night!
Today’s Thoughts: Now, with a clearer mind, I am able to comprehend what the nurse was trying to tell me in the recovery room on Wednesday. Although, my chart did not say “endometriosis”, what it did say was that the Doctor removed scar tissue, lesions, and possibly fibroids. He also scraped my uterus. Any one of these things can affect fertility. Basically I am all “cleaned out and ready for a baby”, as the nurse said. So this was a good decision. It wasn’t that I did this for nothing. Good things can come from it. I have grown fond of my black and blue stomach and my old lady walk. Battle wounds happen when fighting infertility. On July 9th, I will meet with the Doctor and will get the real story, complete with pictures and all. Then we will see what comes next…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Turns out, the nurse was overzealous in her analysis of the surgery results. She was probably just trying to stop my crying. For the real results of the surgery, see Post-Op Appointment .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just have to say I am so grateful to everyone who has been such a support to me during this last week. Ryan was by my side the whole day; holding my hand, giving me popsicles and, most importantly, pretending not to be embarrassed as I threw-up for what seemed like the millionth time, this time right in front of the hospital. My mom spent Thursday cooking enough meals to last all week and stocking my fridge until I could hardly get the door closed. My dad called to check-up on me, leaving a voicemail message in a silly accent making me laugh. And many friends and family sent me emails and voicemails of love and encouragement. Thank you.
In the OR: I was asked to move myself from the gurney over to the operating table. Not exactly the easiest thing to do, but I managed to do it with whatever grace and dignity I had left (Although I’m pretty sure the anesthesiologist got a show in the process). Above me hung two lights the size of pizza pans. The room seemed empty and sterile. Then I was given some sort-of drug that made me feel loopy, which scared me. So, of course, I cried. Not the weepy, sobbing kind-of cry but a sad, pitiful cry – no sound, tears only. My right arm was stretched to the side with the IV and my left arm had the blood pressure cuff, which meant the nurse had to wipe my tears. How humiliating.
It only took a minute and I got myself together. Dr. Synn was fashionably late (what’s new) so I tried to make small talk with the nurses through my oxygen mask. Soon I heard that the Doctor had arrived. Next thing I knew, a cold feeling ran up through my right arm and I felt like I was slipping away. I actually said “thank you” to the anesthesiologist and waved goodbye to the nurses with my free hand. I am such a dork.
After the surgery: Now, I had told Ryan that I dreaded this part of the day. I told him how awful I would feel when waking up from surgery. I told him I would be tired, but uncomfortable, cold and nauseous. He said that it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it would be. He said it would be like waking up from a long nap. I’ll let you guess who was right…
As soon as I could open my eyes, I began asking whatever nurse was beside me, “Did I have endometriosis?” over and over. The problem was that my mouth hadn’t woken up yet so it sounded more like “Diidihaveendometriosis?? DIIDIHAVEENDOMETRIOSIS???” Needless to say, it took about 5 minutes for her to figure out what I was saying.
She looked at my chart and told me, no. There was no mention of endometriosis. I was crushed and barely listened to the rest of what she said while I cried silently for about a half an hour. Meanwhile, she tried to convince me that it was a good thing, that I didn’t want endometriosis, that this means I’m healthy. All I could think was I did this for nothing.
That’s when the nausea set in. I’ll spare you the details as you can probably imagine what it feels like to throw-up repeatedly for hours on a completely empty stomach that has just been cut into and patched back together. They normally expect you to be in the recovery room for about an hour and I was there almost four. Finally, I made it home and, you know what? I think I made it through pretty well. I was walking on my own that same night!
Today’s Thoughts: Now, with a clearer mind, I am able to comprehend what the nurse was trying to tell me in the recovery room on Wednesday. Although, my chart did not say “endometriosis”, what it did say was that the Doctor removed scar tissue, lesions, and possibly fibroids. He also scraped my uterus. Any one of these things can affect fertility. Basically I am all “cleaned out and ready for a baby”, as the nurse said. So this was a good decision. It wasn’t that I did this for nothing. Good things can come from it. I have grown fond of my black and blue stomach and my old lady walk. Battle wounds happen when fighting infertility. On July 9th, I will meet with the Doctor and will get the real story, complete with pictures and all. Then we will see what comes next…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Turns out, the nurse was overzealous in her analysis of the surgery results. She was probably just trying to stop my crying. For the real results of the surgery, see Post-Op Appointment .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just have to say I am so grateful to everyone who has been such a support to me during this last week. Ryan was by my side the whole day; holding my hand, giving me popsicles and, most importantly, pretending not to be embarrassed as I threw-up for what seemed like the millionth time, this time right in front of the hospital. My mom spent Thursday cooking enough meals to last all week and stocking my fridge until I could hardly get the door closed. My dad called to check-up on me, leaving a voicemail message in a silly accent making me laugh. And many friends and family sent me emails and voicemails of love and encouragement. Thank you.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Ain't I Lucky!
Just wanted to share:
Several weeks ago, I mentioned to my boss that I would be having surgery for endometriosis as it may be a possible cause of my infertility. I told him that I would let him know when I had a date and that I would need about a week off work.
Several days ago, he came into my office with information from the internet on endometriosis. He had written down the name of the disease and researched it to learn more about it. He found information about certain foods on a website just for endometriosis and printed out some items to give me.
I was just so stunned that he took the time to research something that was impacting my life. While many bosses would have been thinking about the “time off” I was requesting, my boss was thinking about me. Ain’t I lucky!
On a side note: I have a few dates lined up.
My pre-op appointment will be Monday, June 11th at 8:30am.
My surgery will be Wednesday, June 13th at 12:30p.m.
My post-op appointment will be Monday, July 9th at 11:15am.
Several weeks ago, I mentioned to my boss that I would be having surgery for endometriosis as it may be a possible cause of my infertility. I told him that I would let him know when I had a date and that I would need about a week off work.
Several days ago, he came into my office with information from the internet on endometriosis. He had written down the name of the disease and researched it to learn more about it. He found information about certain foods on a website just for endometriosis and printed out some items to give me.
I was just so stunned that he took the time to research something that was impacting my life. While many bosses would have been thinking about the “time off” I was requesting, my boss was thinking about me. Ain’t I lucky!
On a side note: I have a few dates lined up.
My pre-op appointment will be Monday, June 11th at 8:30am.
My surgery will be Wednesday, June 13th at 12:30p.m.
My post-op appointment will be Monday, July 9th at 11:15am.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Womanhood
What makes someone a woman? Is it her physical attributes? It is an innate caring and nurturing that you are born with? Or is it her ability to conceive and carry a child, thus proving her evolutionary purpose? If she is unable, is she not a woman?
I know I must not be the only person with infertility, wondering if they were really a woman. My body is not doing what it was designed to do. It is akin to a man back in the caveman days whose family is starving because he is unable to catch or gather food.
We are lucky that we live in a country in which I can do many things. I can educate myself, I can help clients make prudent financial decisions, I can commit to a marriage, I can teach children in Sunday School, I can be a good daughter, sister, friend, member of society. But, I can not be a mother. Without some sort-of medical or legal intervention, I can not have a child. It is hard not to feel like a failure under that circumstance.
Logically, I know that simply bearing a child does not make me a woman any more than wearing a loincloth and beating his chest would make Ryan a man. However, in those dark moments, when reason and common sense give way to bitterness and confusion, these are the feelings that can take residence inside a broken heart.
I know I must not be the only person with infertility, wondering if they were really a woman. My body is not doing what it was designed to do. It is akin to a man back in the caveman days whose family is starving because he is unable to catch or gather food.
We are lucky that we live in a country in which I can do many things. I can educate myself, I can help clients make prudent financial decisions, I can commit to a marriage, I can teach children in Sunday School, I can be a good daughter, sister, friend, member of society. But, I can not be a mother. Without some sort-of medical or legal intervention, I can not have a child. It is hard not to feel like a failure under that circumstance.
Logically, I know that simply bearing a child does not make me a woman any more than wearing a loincloth and beating his chest would make Ryan a man. However, in those dark moments, when reason and common sense give way to bitterness and confusion, these are the feelings that can take residence inside a broken heart.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Surgery Consultation
Yesterday, I had my surgery consultation with Dr. Synn. I was glad I didn't have to pay for the appointment because he basically went over everything he already told me: what the surgery involves, the risks, etc. However, I was surprised to learn that, once the surgery is over, we will keep going with fertility treatments immediately. For some reason I was thinking that we would "try" naturally for a few months. Not so. And, if I have endometriosis, time is of the essence because it starts growing back immediately, so we have to get right back on the treatments which means about $1200/cycle starting immediately. Here I was thinking that the surgery would be the only treatment/expense for a while but it turns out I was wrong. Ryan and I will need to sit down and have a money talk. But, all in all, it went well. The girls at his office will call my insurance to verify they will cover the surgery and then the hospital will call me to schedule the surgery. I should hear from someone in about 8 days.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Where are MY Easter Eggs? (and a timeline)
On a Saturday morning a few weeks ago, amidst chocolate covered bunnies and carrot cake, it hit me. Had we been one of those people who conceived right away, there would be a three-year-old running around the backyard, looking for hidden eggs. Probably there would have also been a one-year-old tagging along behind.
Now before I scold myself for buying tickets to my own pity party, I must remember that it is okay to briefly slip into the dark side of “what ifs” and “if onlys”. It’s just important not to get stuck there.
So, I was indulging myself in this dangerous game of replaying the past, when I lost it a little. And by a little, I mean a lot. I was okay until I described my feelings to Ryan and forgot that sometimes my mouth is directly connected to my tear ducts.
You know the feeling when the normal, everyday guy you’re married to says something so sincere and comforting, that for a minute you almost don’t recognize him? Not to say that Ryan isn’t great all the time, but to feel that heard and that understood changed the entire course of the conversation. All I felt coming from him was concern and compassion. No sympathy, no belittlement, not even exasperation that (yet again) we were rehashing this situation. Just empathy.
Ryan suggested that if I wasn’t pregnant by the time he finished his field training (about 6 months), we start looking into adopting.
Like most men, Ryan would love to have a child that is his biologically. As his wife, I want nothing more than to give that to him. However, we can not keep this up forever. Barring something working out for us in the meantime, in about a year we will be facing the stage in which in-vitro fertilization would be our last option. While many couples find in-vitro to be a positive choice for them and have been rewarded with tiny miracles of their very own, it seems at this point neither Ryan nor I are considering taking that step. The cost is ~$10,000 and, as with all fertility treatments, the results are not guaranteed.
For me personally, I feel that biology fades while family is forever. As an adopted child myself, I can see many positive aspects in adoption. I have had friends that have adopted and I can not picture these families without these children.
I attended an adoption meeting recently (I was asked to speak about my experience as an adopted person). I listened to adoptive and birth parents speak about the role of adoption in their lives. I’d dare say this experience is not better or worse than having your own biological child, just different.
So, what would be different? I guess instead of telling my child about waiting for her due date, I would be telling her about waiting for adoption paperwork to be approved. Instead of stories about how my water broke in the grocery store and it took 15 hours of labor to get her here, I would be telling her how I got the phone call she was on the way and it took 15 hours to drive to the hospital where she was born. Instead of hearing about Daddy cutting the umbilical cord, it would be Daddy taking pictures through the nursery windows and finding a computer to email them home to friends and family. Instead of the first car ride as we drove home from the hospital, maybe it would be the first ride home on an airplane. Regardless, she would be ours and we would be hers and there would be no doubt in the world how much we wanted her. Not better or worse, just different.
And, heaven forbid, someday she might actually want to meet her birth mother??? Well, I’m sure there are worse things in this world than watching your child connect with someone as selfless as that.
Sure, adoption is riddled with unknowns, positives and negatives, a true roller coaster of emotions. But, isn’t infertility? Even further, isn’t parenting in general? I wouldn’t know…
When Ryan was suggesting we start the adoption process on that Saturday morning, he was jumping ahead just a bit. For now, I am still on the infertility carousel. I have my surgery consultation on May 23rd. From there, I will schedule the laparoscopy and hysteroscopy. Should this not result in pregnancy, I am willing to do the hormone shots in combination with IUIs. This is expensive (~$1000-$1500/month) so we will probably rotate, one month on and one month off for a total of 6 rounds. Then I will know that I gave it my all. I can grieve the fact that I can never give Ryan a child of his own (genetically) and I can be comfortable turning to adoption. That’s the timeline at this point. What happens from here on out is anyone’s guess.
Now before I scold myself for buying tickets to my own pity party, I must remember that it is okay to briefly slip into the dark side of “what ifs” and “if onlys”. It’s just important not to get stuck there.
So, I was indulging myself in this dangerous game of replaying the past, when I lost it a little. And by a little, I mean a lot. I was okay until I described my feelings to Ryan and forgot that sometimes my mouth is directly connected to my tear ducts.
You know the feeling when the normal, everyday guy you’re married to says something so sincere and comforting, that for a minute you almost don’t recognize him? Not to say that Ryan isn’t great all the time, but to feel that heard and that understood changed the entire course of the conversation. All I felt coming from him was concern and compassion. No sympathy, no belittlement, not even exasperation that (yet again) we were rehashing this situation. Just empathy.
Ryan suggested that if I wasn’t pregnant by the time he finished his field training (about 6 months), we start looking into adopting.
Like most men, Ryan would love to have a child that is his biologically. As his wife, I want nothing more than to give that to him. However, we can not keep this up forever. Barring something working out for us in the meantime, in about a year we will be facing the stage in which in-vitro fertilization would be our last option. While many couples find in-vitro to be a positive choice for them and have been rewarded with tiny miracles of their very own, it seems at this point neither Ryan nor I are considering taking that step. The cost is ~$10,000 and, as with all fertility treatments, the results are not guaranteed.
For me personally, I feel that biology fades while family is forever. As an adopted child myself, I can see many positive aspects in adoption. I have had friends that have adopted and I can not picture these families without these children.
I attended an adoption meeting recently (I was asked to speak about my experience as an adopted person). I listened to adoptive and birth parents speak about the role of adoption in their lives. I’d dare say this experience is not better or worse than having your own biological child, just different.
So, what would be different? I guess instead of telling my child about waiting for her due date, I would be telling her about waiting for adoption paperwork to be approved. Instead of stories about how my water broke in the grocery store and it took 15 hours of labor to get her here, I would be telling her how I got the phone call she was on the way and it took 15 hours to drive to the hospital where she was born. Instead of hearing about Daddy cutting the umbilical cord, it would be Daddy taking pictures through the nursery windows and finding a computer to email them home to friends and family. Instead of the first car ride as we drove home from the hospital, maybe it would be the first ride home on an airplane. Regardless, she would be ours and we would be hers and there would be no doubt in the world how much we wanted her. Not better or worse, just different.
And, heaven forbid, someday she might actually want to meet her birth mother??? Well, I’m sure there are worse things in this world than watching your child connect with someone as selfless as that.
Sure, adoption is riddled with unknowns, positives and negatives, a true roller coaster of emotions. But, isn’t infertility? Even further, isn’t parenting in general? I wouldn’t know…
When Ryan was suggesting we start the adoption process on that Saturday morning, he was jumping ahead just a bit. For now, I am still on the infertility carousel. I have my surgery consultation on May 23rd. From there, I will schedule the laparoscopy and hysteroscopy. Should this not result in pregnancy, I am willing to do the hormone shots in combination with IUIs. This is expensive (~$1000-$1500/month) so we will probably rotate, one month on and one month off for a total of 6 rounds. Then I will know that I gave it my all. I can grieve the fact that I can never give Ryan a child of his own (genetically) and I can be comfortable turning to adoption. That’s the timeline at this point. What happens from here on out is anyone’s guess.
Monday, March 26, 2007
The Other Side
There are two types of people who beat infertility. By beating infertility I mean that, despite the odds, a couple who at one time struggled has a successful pregnancy thanks to a drug, treatment, or just plain luck.
The first type I would call the chameleon. Once their dream comes true, their colors change. Suddenly, what has happened for them will happen for everyone. They find themselves telling other girls the same things that they themselves hated to hear. Relax, it will happen when you least expect it, have faith. But, now it is okay to say these things because, they are actually true after all!!!
One chameleon’s name is Jamie*. Jamie went to church with me. Jamie struggled for years to become pregnant. Jamie knew how it felt to be the only married girl at church without kids. Jamie experienced walking by the girls who were expecting or pregnant in the hallway and feeling unable to join in the conversation. Jamie stumbled her way through awkward chats with friends about potty training or colic, with no life experience to lean on. Jamie skipped out on baby showers. Jamie was like me.
So, Jamie would talk to me. We weren’t the best of friends who shared all of each other’s hopes and dreams. But we did share one dream, to have a child of our own. Jamie became a friendly face to turn to during those “being-a-good-mother-type” church lessons. She taught me tricks to ease the pain, such as buying an expecting mother a Target gift card, so you don’t have to brave the baby department. She was even there during Mother’s Day, quite possibly the worst day of the year for a childless woman, who each year at church gets a flower with the remark “You can have one, even though you’re not a mom”, or something as equally unintentionally heart wrenching. From a glance in the hall to a quick word in the parking lot, I had a friend in Jamie.
Then one day, after several failed treatments, Jamie became pregnant by surprise. No one had an explanation, it just happened.
Jamie’s metamorphosis happened instantly and without warning. The exclusive nightclub Pregnancy&Motherhood had waved her in and she wasn’t turning back, even to waive good-bye. In other words, Jamie literally never spoke to me again.
Maybe you're wondering if I stopped talking to her. Maybe I felt she had nothing in common with me anymore. Maybe I pushed her away because I was jealous. The answer to these would be no. I was ecstatic when I learned of her pregnancy. Finally, someone like me had made it to the other side!! But, she didn't want to share this experience with me. I wouldn't understand. This is why I found out she was pregnant from someone else. Simply put...I tried, she didn't.
Jamie joined the other girls my age with tummy bumps and babies in tow and discussed breastfeeding and leg cramps in the hallway. I was invited to her baby shower. I got her a Target gift card.
Soon after the baby was born, they moved. I saw her once more when they came back to visit. Still not a word was spoken, but I thought I saw some sadness in her eyes when she saw my arms were still empty. Or maybe that's what I wanted to see...or didn't want to see? Regardless, I haven’t seen her since.
So, the chameleon would be one type of “recovered infertility”. But there is another type out there.
This second type remembers with vivid clarity the heartache of infertility. They ask you how it’s going and they respond with empathy, not sympathy. They acknowledge your existence and that you differ from them in stage of life only. They are not overly optimistic about your situation and don’t assume success will happen for everyone, like it did for them. When they look at you, their eyes don’t say, “I feel sorry for you” but rather “I know how you feel; I haven’t forgotten the sorrow. My infertility has left a mark on me that will last forever and we will always be connected by that experience”. I have been fortunate to meet a few of these strong women. Many times, I am introduced to a person who once struggled like me. When they learn that I, too, have had this trial, I cannot express the relief that comes over me when I realize they are in this second category.
And should my dream ever come true, I have promised myself I will never be a chameleon.
*Name changed
The first type I would call the chameleon. Once their dream comes true, their colors change. Suddenly, what has happened for them will happen for everyone. They find themselves telling other girls the same things that they themselves hated to hear. Relax, it will happen when you least expect it, have faith. But, now it is okay to say these things because, they are actually true after all!!!
One chameleon’s name is Jamie*. Jamie went to church with me. Jamie struggled for years to become pregnant. Jamie knew how it felt to be the only married girl at church without kids. Jamie experienced walking by the girls who were expecting or pregnant in the hallway and feeling unable to join in the conversation. Jamie stumbled her way through awkward chats with friends about potty training or colic, with no life experience to lean on. Jamie skipped out on baby showers. Jamie was like me.
So, Jamie would talk to me. We weren’t the best of friends who shared all of each other’s hopes and dreams. But we did share one dream, to have a child of our own. Jamie became a friendly face to turn to during those “being-a-good-mother-type” church lessons. She taught me tricks to ease the pain, such as buying an expecting mother a Target gift card, so you don’t have to brave the baby department. She was even there during Mother’s Day, quite possibly the worst day of the year for a childless woman, who each year at church gets a flower with the remark “You can have one, even though you’re not a mom”, or something as equally unintentionally heart wrenching. From a glance in the hall to a quick word in the parking lot, I had a friend in Jamie.
Then one day, after several failed treatments, Jamie became pregnant by surprise. No one had an explanation, it just happened.
Jamie’s metamorphosis happened instantly and without warning. The exclusive nightclub Pregnancy&Motherhood had waved her in and she wasn’t turning back, even to waive good-bye. In other words, Jamie literally never spoke to me again.
Maybe you're wondering if I stopped talking to her. Maybe I felt she had nothing in common with me anymore. Maybe I pushed her away because I was jealous. The answer to these would be no. I was ecstatic when I learned of her pregnancy. Finally, someone like me had made it to the other side!! But, she didn't want to share this experience with me. I wouldn't understand. This is why I found out she was pregnant from someone else. Simply put...I tried, she didn't.
Jamie joined the other girls my age with tummy bumps and babies in tow and discussed breastfeeding and leg cramps in the hallway. I was invited to her baby shower. I got her a Target gift card.
Soon after the baby was born, they moved. I saw her once more when they came back to visit. Still not a word was spoken, but I thought I saw some sadness in her eyes when she saw my arms were still empty. Or maybe that's what I wanted to see...or didn't want to see? Regardless, I haven’t seen her since.
So, the chameleon would be one type of “recovered infertility”. But there is another type out there.
This second type remembers with vivid clarity the heartache of infertility. They ask you how it’s going and they respond with empathy, not sympathy. They acknowledge your existence and that you differ from them in stage of life only. They are not overly optimistic about your situation and don’t assume success will happen for everyone, like it did for them. When they look at you, their eyes don’t say, “I feel sorry for you” but rather “I know how you feel; I haven’t forgotten the sorrow. My infertility has left a mark on me that will last forever and we will always be connected by that experience”. I have been fortunate to meet a few of these strong women. Many times, I am introduced to a person who once struggled like me. When they learn that I, too, have had this trial, I cannot express the relief that comes over me when I realize they are in this second category.
And should my dream ever come true, I have promised myself I will never be a chameleon.
*Name changed
Monday, March 5, 2007
A New Plan
Okay, so I lied…It’s barely the beginning of March, but I have another update. My plans for treatment are changing somewhat. I have been having some symptoms (I’ll spare you the details) that are reminiscent of endometriosis.
Endometriosis is a condition where tissue similar to the lining of the uterus (the endometrial stroma and glands, which should only be located inside the uterus) is found elsewhere in the body, from the outside of the uterine wall in mild cases to all throughout the body in more severe cases. Apparently, I have a family history of this disease and I match a few of the symptoms, one of these being… infertility.
So here’s my conundrum: Do I stop all treatments, wait until we have better health insurance through the PD, and investigate this possibility ~OR~ Do I save up money and continue on with treatments as planned, after all the “cure” for endometriosis is pregnancy.
There is a good chance I don’t have this disease, but then again there’s a chance I do. Our infertility is considered “unexplained”, meaning all our tests look perfect. I have plenty of good eggs, my hormone levels look good, and Ryan has a high amount of “team members” so-to-speak. Could endometriosis be causing our problems? There’s only one way to find out, which involves surgery as described below:
Laparoscopy is the most common procedure used to diagnose and remove mild to moderate endometriosis. The surgeon inserts a lighted viewing instrument called a laparoscope through a small incision. The doctor can view the internal organs to look for signs of endometriosis or other possible problems. This is the only way that endometriosis can be diagnosed with certainty. Then the doctor can remove any visible endometriosis implants and scar tissue that may be causing pain or infertility.
At the same time, this procedure would also be performed:
A hysteroscopy is a procedure in which the doctor uses a hysteroscope to look at the inside of the uterus. A hysteroscope is a thin tube with a tiny camera. The doctor can guide a tool into the uterus to remove a fibroid tumor or just to check for any abnormalities therein.
Recovery time is 1-2 weeks for these procedures. For people who do have endometriosis, the chances of getting pregnant following the surgery are 75%.
After thinking, praying, and talking with my doctor, I feel that I should pursue this possibility. The worst case scenario would be a $200 deductible plus 20% of the cost of the surgery with the conclusion that this possibility is ruled out. Best case scenario would be discovering what might be wrong, repairing it (although this would be a “band-aid”; it will come back again), and getting pregnant. Sounds like a bet worth taking to me…
At the rate they're going, Ryan will start at the PD sometime in late March. He will have to be employed for 30 days and then the health coverage will start at the beginning of the next month following. We have heath insurance coverage now, but with 10 times the deductible amount. So right now it looks like in May I'll be eligible for the new insurance. I have heard some hospitals have waiting lists for this type of procedure so who knows when it will actually happen. But now we have a plan, albeit a new one, but it's still a plan! J
Endometriosis is a condition where tissue similar to the lining of the uterus (the endometrial stroma and glands, which should only be located inside the uterus) is found elsewhere in the body, from the outside of the uterine wall in mild cases to all throughout the body in more severe cases. Apparently, I have a family history of this disease and I match a few of the symptoms, one of these being… infertility.
So here’s my conundrum: Do I stop all treatments, wait until we have better health insurance through the PD, and investigate this possibility ~OR~ Do I save up money and continue on with treatments as planned, after all the “cure” for endometriosis is pregnancy.
There is a good chance I don’t have this disease, but then again there’s a chance I do. Our infertility is considered “unexplained”, meaning all our tests look perfect. I have plenty of good eggs, my hormone levels look good, and Ryan has a high amount of “team members” so-to-speak. Could endometriosis be causing our problems? There’s only one way to find out, which involves surgery as described below:
Laparoscopy is the most common procedure used to diagnose and remove mild to moderate endometriosis. The surgeon inserts a lighted viewing instrument called a laparoscope through a small incision. The doctor can view the internal organs to look for signs of endometriosis or other possible problems. This is the only way that endometriosis can be diagnosed with certainty. Then the doctor can remove any visible endometriosis implants and scar tissue that may be causing pain or infertility.
At the same time, this procedure would also be performed:
A hysteroscopy is a procedure in which the doctor uses a hysteroscope to look at the inside of the uterus. A hysteroscope is a thin tube with a tiny camera. The doctor can guide a tool into the uterus to remove a fibroid tumor or just to check for any abnormalities therein.
Recovery time is 1-2 weeks for these procedures. For people who do have endometriosis, the chances of getting pregnant following the surgery are 75%.
After thinking, praying, and talking with my doctor, I feel that I should pursue this possibility. The worst case scenario would be a $200 deductible plus 20% of the cost of the surgery with the conclusion that this possibility is ruled out. Best case scenario would be discovering what might be wrong, repairing it (although this would be a “band-aid”; it will come back again), and getting pregnant. Sounds like a bet worth taking to me…
At the rate they're going, Ryan will start at the PD sometime in late March. He will have to be employed for 30 days and then the health coverage will start at the beginning of the next month following. We have heath insurance coverage now, but with 10 times the deductible amount. So right now it looks like in May I'll be eligible for the new insurance. I have heard some hospitals have waiting lists for this type of procedure so who knows when it will actually happen. But now we have a plan, albeit a new one, but it's still a plan! J
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