I’m frustrated today.
But somehow at some form of peace.
Maybe it’s one of those levels of grief people are always talking about.
My follow-up appointment for the hysteroscopy was yesterday morning. I waited it out! I behaved like a good girl and didn’t flip out and call the nurses anymore. I just waited out those five days and bought that next two boxes of Always.
I knew that if had been something serious they’d found, they would had to have called me sooner, but somehow my mind just kept saying that they’d return with something god-awful, and that I should be terrified. Around Tuesday, I was kind of freaked out, but for the most part, I kept it to myself. By the time Thursday came around, I was financially, emotionally, and mentally broken, but I got up and went anyway. There would be answers! There would be direction! There would be something drastic!
There was none of these things. LOL
In my gyne office, I am a medical anomaly. This rebellious uterus of mine was cause for great head scratches and squinted “you’ve gotta be kidding me”, facial expressions. From the results of my tests, there is once again “nothing gynecologically wrong” with me to be causing this newset bout of menorrhagia. No cancer, no fibroids, no polyps, no infections, no nothing. That being said, she did speak in great grotesque detail about the amount of lining she’d had to remove, and the size of the pieces removed (think small kiwi fruit. right, I know, tmi). But aside from learning that my body basically stockpiles lining like its waiting on Y2K, I left with the same information I’d had going in.
I’m just numb at this point. And cold (can someone say “Anemia”). I was flustered, but not really angry. I just got in my car and went around the corner to work.
And that’s pretty much still where I am today.
Many times I’ve gotten private messages from those who wonder if I personally have a spiritual take on my own situation. They ask me if I have a relationship with God. I do.
I don’t post much spiritual word on this blog, or on the Facebook page for a few reasons. First, I don’t want to ostracize anyone who believes differently than I do, who may still need the support this place provides. Secondly, I would like to refrain from being anyone’s spiritual or religious spokesperson, because sometimes, when I’m really struggling, I may not say what a church girl should, and that freedom to feel, is a huge part of what this site is built on.
BUT, just to quell the curiosity, He(God) and I have wrestled with this things for a while. Close to eight years with the irregular bleeding, and close to six with the infertility. I’ve had seasons of silently trying to hear and follow His will, and others of being quite angry with Him. Today, I’m just listening.
But because the question has been posed so often, I wonder if that conversation is one we should be having, Eggshells. How has your faith been tested? How have you overcome? HAVE you overcome?
This will be one of those TMI, tell-all posts.
Let me give a couple of you some time to clear the room if that’s not what you’re here for:
So, I’m annoyed and confused today.
Purpose of D&C & hysteroscopy – To diagnose and stop irregular bleeding
Result of D&C – 9 days more of irregular bleeding.
Now, I know what you’re thinking:
Be patient, Regina! That’s completely normal! These things take time… blah, blah, blah.
But let me hip you to something I’ve been keeping silent for a while out of embarrassment, frustration, and a self-destructive need to make sure no one sees the kinks in my armor:
Out of the past 90 days, I have bled in some form or fashion for a total of 67.
I have bled longer than Chad Johnson and Evelyn Lozada were married.
If I bleed another 6 days, I will have also outlasted the nuptials of Kim Kardashian and Chris Humphries.
In the time that I’ve bled, cats, armadillos, bobcats, mice, rabbits, some dog breeds, and many other animal species have fully gestated.
Are you seeing why I’m pissed? Just a bit?
I’ve taken Estrogen supplements, Glucophage, Birth Control Pills, Thyroid meds…and yet nothing.
I’ve purchased approximately EIGHT boxes of Always…each with 32 pads included.
See these special Always boxes that come with the free Modeez Sanitary packs? Yeah, I got FOUR Modeez now.
I’m tired of being tough.
I’m tired of being resilient.
I’m tired of acting like I’m not feeling like I’m literally bleeding to death.
I’m tired of nurses saying, “Yes, but are you bleeding through more than one pad in an hour”, in condescending tones.
I’m tired of feeling eeks and squeaks whenever I sneeze, or stand up too fast, or at random times while sitting absolutely still.
I’m tired of EVERY television show, magazine, book, and conversation being about sex and babies….to point out that I can have neither.
I’m tired of looking at my husband and HATING that he deserves better that what I am capable of providing at the moment because I’m depressed, and infertile, and uncomfortable, and hormonal.
I’m tired of feeling like I’m wearing a diaper every day.
I’m tired of being angry.
I’m tired of being sad.
I’m tired of being told to pray.
I’m just tired.
And I felt it necessary to say that today.
Out loud for a change.
Because who am I helping with this website that I’m paying for, if I don’t tell it all? Especially since that’s what I started the site for. And how am I even helping ME, if I’m not using this website that I’m paying for, as my venting space. And what more damage will I do to myself if I don’t shout?
I called my doctor today. Because once again I felt that I’d reached my breaking point. I was told that this is normal. This post-op “spotting” as they call it. And I don’t know, maybe under different circumstances I’d be okay with that answer. Maybe if I hadn’t already been experiencing it for the past 60+ days then I could not feel so defeated when the nurse once again tells me that “if it isn’t bleeding through one pad in an hour, I can just wait until my follow-up appointment next THURSDAY”.
Next Thursday is 5 days, 127 hours, 7628 minutes, 457706 seconds, and another 30 Always pads away.
At this point in my life, next Thursday is practically a year from now.
And I have lots of curse words floating around in my head to punctuate my feelings about that.
I just don’t understand any of this.
So, it has been a while since I’ve taken the time to actually POST some tidbits here on the site. And it is all your fault. See, most of you follow The Egg on Facebook and we have such great conversations there, that by the time I get over here, I have nothing else to say because we’ve talked it to death over the course of a day!
But, getting back to what this site was created for, and beyond the “business” sides, I have to get my thoughts out once more. And, even in the year 2012…some people don’t use Facebook. I know, I know, perish the thought. But it dawned on me that for those who don’t use Big Blue, there is little to no way of knowing what is going on right now with me if I don’t post it here. So here I am. Have a seat, let’s chat. (more…)
This past week, I was absolutely floored to see a good blog buddy, Jay, over at The 2 Week Wait be heckled on her site because she is currently pregnant. A reader basically got offended that the site discusses infertility at all, and ranted that Jay should rename it because she is obviously no longer in “the wait”. This hurt my heart because it adds just one more hurdle for this community. Infertility is hard enough without adding the fear of success onto the fear of failure. We need as many voices in this fight as possible, and that includes those of us who’ve made it to the other side. Isn’t that the goal, anyway?
Followers of The Egg, know that from time to time, one brave sister, Mimi, or BrokenBrownBelle as we call her, submits an entry that chronicles her personal infertility battles. In this three-part post, she will describe just how it feels to be a pregnant infertile who is finally close to being on that other side.
So, when I originally became a member of the embattled, tough girls of infertility lifestyle, I thought the best way to make myself strong, was to completely act un-phased by things that were the cliche discomforts for infertile women. The textbook cases of teen -pregnancy haters, bitter stepmothers, and weepy weak women who couldn’t bare to lay eyes on children until they had their own. I was so busy avoiding becoming that woman, that I totally have been blindsided by my newest archnemesis: “Crazy with Anticipation Paranoia Chick”
Seriously, if you haven’t met or become her, consider yourself lucky.
No, BLESSED. (more…)
Back when I was still engaged, a fellow bride shared some wisdom from one of her elder family members. It was a list of things every new wife should do to keep house. There, nestled alongside gems like “Never go to bed angry”, was this little nugget,
“Your husband should never know when you are having your feminine time. Keep those things private!”
Oh really? Well whoopdee freakin do. What stellar advice. With tips like these, who needs Dear Abby? (more…)