Yesterday was my three year wedding anniversary and on a whim I decided to test. After sighing the typical “here comes the negative” mantra that always hits me my heart stopped when I looked over less than a minute later to see two solid lines.
I do believe the words, “Oh my fucking god, NO WAY. This isn’t real” escaped my mouth a zillion and one times. I couldn’t cry or scream or anything. I was just shocked. The only symptom that I’ve had has been sore breasts, but I figured that might be because I sleep on my stomach.
In shock I drove out of town to pick up a digital test in case these internet cheapies were lying. After arriving home and having a near panic attack and pissy moment that Jeremy might have discovered our secret I tested once again with the digital and another cheapie. The cheapie showed two lines. I held my breath and looked at the digital screen fully expecting a NOT PREGNANT to crush my hopes. However the digital screen glowed, “Pregnant.” A delightful half scream of glee escaped as I told Leo, our dog, how he was going to have a brother or sister soon. I couldn’t help but laugh and smile. Peeing for yet a third time on the fourth test my body a wreck of nerves I watched two more lines appear. Diluted third time of the day pee and still positive. I just can’t believe it.
I boxed up all the tests and waited for Jeremy to get home. Since we were exchanging gifts I mentioned how I was the ultimate gift giver and that he’d love my presents. He unwrapped the first two. A game and a movie. I handed him the third box and held my breath. It took a few moments and his smile dropped into a shocked face. His reaction was similar to mine. “Really? Really? Seriously? How many times did you test? Really?!” He was just as excited and in shock as I was.
Today I ran around to a few hospitals to get a verified test done so I could schedule an appointment with my OBGYN. One couldn’t do the test due to not having an order, the other clinic’s doctor was out on an emergency. Finally I was sent to the Public Health Department where the test was done. This was way harder than it should have been.
Trying to guess a due date was awesome since my last period was April 23rd, but I was negative on May 20th when I got my laparoscopy done and haven’t had a period since. We’re assuming it was somewhere during the last two weeks of June and no later than July 7th since the positive line came up well before the control line on her test. So the due date right now at this moment in time is anywhere from February 13th through March 13th.
I’m really excited and really scared. I’ve decided to give up being a vegetarian because I don’t want to experiment on the Lil Luma or deprive him/her of nutrients when I’m not totally secure with my nutritional ability on being a vegetarian.
I have a doctors appointment scheduled on the 27th to get started on whatever it is they do. Hopefully they can tell me how far along I am.
SO FUCK YEAH GO US!
My mind has been in shambles as I’ve tried to convey my thoughts to words. To write so that my nonsense makes sense to others. Still I doubt that everything I’m feeling and thinking is going to come through correctly.
After nearly four years of trying to actively conceive, the past two with medical assistance, I think it’s time to put it on the back burner. I haven’t decided yet if I want to go on birth control for the first time in my life or just leave it up to chance since my body is pretty much birth control already. On one hand I want to so that I don’t have to worry about becoming pregnant while trying to lose weight, but most birth controls make you gain weight I’ve heard. On the other hand I don’t want to go on it because it feels like giving up and failure and it would be a pain in the ass to stop if we decide to try again months down the line. I also worry that more chemicals might mess with my already imbalanced body.
Through all of this, thoughts, reasons, and madness swirl through my brain like razor-sharp whirlwinds. Do this, do that, this is why, this cannot be, what if, when; massive headache I tell ya, MASSIVE.
Lately I’ve been suffering from depression and agitated depression moods. Other days I’m okay for a bit. I can’t help but feel that my infertility is a large part of why, along with my job which I’ve come to terms with that while it’s easy money just isn’t something I want to continue doing. Not just because of my infertility, but because it’s not challenging in an intellectual way for me. I want something more. I’ve been thinking about going to school. Continuing a job I don’t enjoy causes a lot of anxiety inside me. I dread opening my e-mail and going in for even that short four hour period of time despite knowing the day will be easy and fine.
Back to the depression though; it’s hard. I don’t like the episodes. I’ll be happy one second then down for the next few days with no pinpoint as to why I’m feeling that way. The worst is feeling a constant conflict of emotions. Both happy and sad. Cycling. I don’t like it. Thus I’ve finally sucked it up and filled out some paperwork to see someone. I can only hope they take me and my fears seriously rather then tell me I suffer from SAD like the doctors growing up did. It’s not a seasonal thing. It’s not a weather thing. It’s a ME thing. Something IS wrong and I want it to be fixed if it can be.
Then I start thinking about fertility again. Why are we trying so hard? Is it because of our only positive test that was actually a chemical pregnancy back in 2007? Would we care or be trying now if that hadn’t happened? What is the big rush I’m only almost twenty-three years old. Why am I rushing to raise a child when I haven’t done the things I want to do yet. Why am I not focusing on my life goals? Why do I want to spend my early twenties worrying about something I have years to still try and only one chance at being young myself? Most of the answers are “because I can’t.” I’m tired of hurting because I feel like a complete lemon. It’s so hard to remind myself that my life is not incomplete just because we don’t have a lil luma.
Even though Jeremy and I were staying at the Hilton for my laparoscopy, I had forgotten about it. While we were there I wasn’t focused on trying to conceive at all. I enjoyed the time we were spending together. Going out to dinner. Grabbing a coffee. Relaxing. Playing video games.
We didn’t have internet1 and it was fucking great! I didn’t die not knowing what was going on in cyberworld. I wasn’t even curious.
The internet and the amount of time I spend aimlessly on this computer is also on my list of why I’m depressed. Truth be told I’ve had a computer addiction since I was thirteen and while it’s great that I’m so geeky it’s also bad because now I don’t know how to self entertain anymore.
So in the end the solutions to my issues are pretty simple for now. Stop putting so much focus on trying to conceive. Take a break and do the whole not trying not preventing thing until I can sort myself out. See someone about my depression and hopefully find a solution there. Spend less time on the internet.
The internet one is going to be funny because now it means rediscovering things I enjoy. I can only clean my house so many times. What are some hobbies outside of the computer that you enjoy?
Edited: 6/22/2011 @ 1:02PM : I plan to continue said job until I find something better or decide more on what I want to do with my life. I’m trying to keep in mind that maybe it’s just my depression that ‘s messing with my mentality. It’s an easy job, four hours a day, allows the hours I need and days off are easily scheduled. Lots of perks that I shouldn’t bitch so much about I guess. As I said I’m going to stick it out until I can get some help for my depression and see if anything changes.
Going back and forth between wanting to continue and just wanting my life back. I feel like we’ve been trying so long for so hard that I just don’t know who I am anymore. How to be me. Jeremy and I talked last night about me going on BCP. It would help with the whole mentality of not trying and focusing on me. I plan to talk to my OBGYN about it as I’ve read it helps regulate us PCOS peeps sometimes.
Well, I’m alive. Today was supposed to be that whole doomsday thing and well the world hasn’t ended so that’s great. In other news I’m now snug at home with Jeremy to be my bitch on the recovery front, a furkid who is lovable yet a pain in the ass, and two types of pain killers should I need them.
So where to really begin this post op story on my laparoscopy, the results, and how I’m feeling during the recovery period. It’s always one of those awkward moments where you’re like, “Well where do I begin when I want to talk about something else that was before the specific event?” so why not start there?
Jeremy and I left late Thursday afternoon on our three hour drive to the town where my surgery was going to be. Navigating by awesome OnStar we arrived and checked in at the Hilton hotel. Yes, the HILTON! I felt like a total rich bitch as we road the glass elevator to our floor. I fell in love with our room and the king size bed that I immediately jumped on and let out squeals of delight. We had TWO 40″ LCD TVs in our room. Totally cool when you can bring along a game system and hook it up to one TV while still being able to watch TV on the other. Sometimes paying that extra $20.00 is worth it to upgrade hotels, especially when they use high thread count sheets. I now know what people mean when they say they can actually feel the difference. It’s so true!
After scouting the layout we set off for some dinner to feed the starving gremlins in our stomach. Olive Garden was an obvious choice. If you haven’t tried their Eggplant Parmigiana, do it! Don’t let the word eggplant turn you off. The dish was wonderful and did not taste vegetable-ly at all.
Fast forward to our pre-op visit the next day… also known as “the scary this is the worst we could find” visit. Truthfully the pre-op visit left me feeling relaxed because I knew what to expect and what would happen during each scenario. We also discussed what to do after the laparoscopy, which was one of those MEH things as always. RESULTS NOW PLEASE?!
Worst case scenario was that my uterus was beyond repair and he’d pull out without touching it. Others included one or two blocked tubes that the HSG somehow missed that would need to be removed rather than repaired due to the risk of scaring over worse. We discussed how if that was the case then remove them if it gave us a better chance. Apparently if you have one blocked tube it can be toxic to the environment due to fluid build ups. If they removed both there was still an option of IVF. Best case scenario was that he found nothing, which while good is also a put off because it leaves you wondering what the hell the problem is.
As surgery time came I found myself less nervous and more in a “lets get this over with because I’m starving” mood. Apparently I’m a total foodie. After pumping my IV with some anaesthesia and wheeling me under some warm blankets to a freezing operating room the last thing I remember is moving from my bed to the operating bed and watching them prep instruments. I don’t remember falling asleep or anything.
I’ve come to the conclusion now that I’ve been in recovery for a day that the worst part of this surgery was the waking up. That not remembering thing carried over to when consciousness first hit my brain. I couldn’t remember where I was or how I got there. I knew I was in a hospital and that I couldn’t sense Jeremy around me. I began to panic and my upper body started shaking to try and wake myself up more. When I finally found my voice, the first thing I asked was, “Is my Husband okay? Jeremy. Is he okay?!”. Truth be told I panicked. I was scared to death that maybe we got in a wreck and that he was hurt. The nurses reply, “Oh that’s so sweet! He’s fine. He should be the one worried about you.”. A few seconds after that I began to remember why I was there.
Scariest thing ever and the worst part of the surgery. I finally managed to stop myself from shaking and got my breathing under control so that the monitor also stopped freaking out. It’s funny at the same time because I remember asking for Jeremy when I first woke up after getting my wisdom teeth removed as well. Apparently it really goes to show how much I love him in some way. That or I’m a total co-dependent bitch.
As I sit here in our hotel room watching Jeremy play video games my mind can’t help but swirl with thoughts and emotions. Tomorrow is my Laparoscopy, a surgery where they check out the outsides of my insides, or the outsides of my uterus and ovary area but saying “outsides of my insides” is just easier. They are looking for anything that might be preventing us from conceiving. Endometriosis, scar tissue, tumors, twists and turns or unicorns poking holes in my tubes. Whatever visible thing could be causing my infertility. What might turn out to just be my body being a lemon and nothing is wrong with those bits.
It’s odd you know. On one hand you want something to be found. Something to be wrong so that you might finally have an answer after three and a half years. Yet on the other hand you don’t want there to be anything wrong because no one wants something to be wrong with them, especially when there are other things already wrong with them. It’s a constant tilt of balance between what you hope to come of it.
I’m a bit nervous even though I know there is nothing to be nervous about. I guess I’m just nervous because it’s like “Will I have an answer? Won’t I? What will we do? Where will we go from here?” even though I know all of those answers have to wait until I’m finished. I’ve also never had surgery before. Granted in 6th grade I was numbed from the waist down so they could do a knee scope for my torn ACL, but I was completely under for that, in fact I got to watch on the screen. The only thing I’ve ever been knocked out for was my wisdom tooth removal, but I don’t really count that for some reason. I should maybe. It’s still a surgery where they are like “Oh hai! Count backwards!”, but it was so minor compared to this.
Perhaps I’m complicating things. It’s just something I do. Overthink, run away on the wind tides of the thoughts in my mind. Swirling and twirling between extremes. Is it possible to be calm and yet a whirlwind at the same time? It just seems so conflicting. Sometimes I worry about me. Nervous yet not. Not yet nervous.
Things will go fine.
Last month we embarked on our first visit with a Reproductive Endocrinologist and I mentioned that we were at a two option phase that depended on what our insurance had to say.
Like a bitch I’ve been keeping the answer a secret because well…I can? I don’t really know. Anywho, we’ve known for two weeks now that the insurance will cover 80% of the Laparoscopy and treatment of what they find. Granted paying 20% is still a hellacious amount it’s better than paying 100% for anything.
So come April 15th I go in for the Laparoscopy surgery that I didn’t realize there was sooo much freaking prep work to do before and afterwards. Blood tests, pill popping, no sex for two weeks afterwards, and if that wasn’t bad enough I’m not allowed to use tampons for two weeks after the surgery either! I lothe pads. I always have. *flails* It’s not right! Sex and no tampons could cause a world war you know.
While I’m in the WTF part of my writing let me continue on by talking about the redonk amount of money I spent on prescriptions today for this little procedure. 140 fucking dollars. I almost died when they rang it up. There went half of my paycheck. Granted I knew that $30 of that was for my three month supply of Metformin, the other $110?! STILL REDONKALIS! To break this animal bullshit down a little more so you can understand the insanity:
EIGHTY FUCKING DOLLARS FOR ANTI-NAUSEA MEDS! I’d rather feel like death. I could have picked up some chocolate or pepto or something for $5! When I got to my car I called the pharmacy to double check the prices and see if they ran the prescriptions through my insurance. Apparently they did and everything was right. $80 was just my copay for the anti-nausea meds that normally cost $300 for 15 pills.
Has anyone else’s brains exploded yet? $300 for anti-nausea meds? Yet people say we don’t need Health Care Reform. It’s pretty sad when pain killers cost less than something you can pick up over the counter. I wish I would have known the prices before hand, otherwise I wouldn’t have had her fill the anti-nausea one. I actually wish I would have thought to take them back to see if I couldn’t get my money back, but not that I’ve left the store it’s too late. Perhaps I’ll sell them on e-bay ;).
But yes come April 15th they’re going to make some small cuts, shove a camera and other metal instruments through the incisions and take a look around my uterus area. Their goal is to see if everything appears hunky dory. No endometrius, scar tissue, tumors, anti-life army marchers, or other junk that could be causing my infertility.
One one hand I’m hoping they find something to fix so that maybe we can conceive but on the other I’m hoping everything is fine because I’m already screwed up enough in the body department. It’s the same thing as when I had the HSG, you want something to fix so you possibly have an answer as to why, but at the same time you want to be okay.
I’m nervous and excited. Hopefully they don’t steal my uterus like in the Devils Advocate.
Hello! My name is Dez and I just happen to be your not so average twenty-three year old gamer geek girl. I'm married to an equally geeky husband, Jeremy.
I'm also a mother who's trying to find out who she is while not losing herself completely in motherhood. A lover of video games (obviously), not blowing up my kitchen in an attempt to be a chef, and a pretend photographer. Learn more about me!
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