Posts Tagged ‘Tales From the Darkside’

Casting Pearls…(Or the Sacredness of Names)

We hold names sacred in the infertility community.

They are our little secret smirks at fate.

They symbolize the victory we’re hoping for.  They are precursors to rainbows.

A horizon we can barely see, but one we are trying desperately to get a view of. (more…)

Hiding in Plain Sight

Long time no blog.

I know. *slaps own hand*  “Bad Blogger!”  But come on in, have a seat…

If you hang with me on Facebook and Twitter, then you know I haven’t really left, but that I’ve just been extremely more quiet about what is going on inside my own journey.    There’s good reason, I promise.   (more…)

The Best of Times…The Worst of Times

I warn you, not to watch this.
And yet I have to share it.
A father breaks down while explaining one of the hardest points in his life. Attending to the very real pain of grief during the day, and wading through a career as a comedian at night.
It is a heart-wrenching story.
But I have to share it.
Because this is the EXACT feeling I have been trying to convey for months now.  This feeling that everything is going swell, and yet going horribly all at once.
The feeling of knowing that although something is dying in our lives, we still have to go to work.
Even as something is passing away in us, we still have to communicate.
All the while something is breaking us down,  we have to express joy in the “good” things that have come our way in the meantime.
And nobody knows what is really happening underneath.
When this video ended, I was in tears.
Not just for HIS pain.
But because he understood mine.

For the past 9 months, EVERY DAY has been an up and down roller-coaster of feelings.
I go into the doctor’s office in the morning and hear no good news, I get to work in the afternoon and get praised for something.
I excel in my social obligations on the weekends, I spend the weeknights curled in my bed.
I am kicking life’s ass personally and professionally, and it is kicking mine emotionally and physically.

And no one gets it!  You can write it out,  talk until you’re blue, draw a diagram, and people will still want you at work in the morning, at church on Sunday, and at their party/babyshower/ladies night on Saturday.  They placate you with soft “Oh, you poor thing”‘s and emoticon you with (((hugs))), but they don’t actually get it.

All they know is that you’re in a pissy mood.  All they see is that you didn’t show up to that thingamajig.  All they know is that you aren’t yourself.

There is an INCREDIBLE isolation felt.  A dynamic feeling that life is interfering with life.  That you can’t be YOU.  That life will NOT slow down and let you get your breath because you aren’t entitled to that.  You just keep riding downhill in this car, even-though you know the brakes are out, and you can only pray that there is a gentle tree to stop the incline.

I finally reached a break in my menorrhagia last week.  I had my body to myself for about four days and then promptly got food poisoning.  LOL  Because that’s how fly I am.   But overall, I’m in somewhat of a better place.  I’m a little less snarky this week.  I feel a tiny piece of joy returning to my workday.   I don’t want to retreat from human contact nearly as much.

And I’m grateful for that.

But I know that it’s only a matter of time before things start rolling down that hill again.  And I’m going to have to get up and come to work, and make teenagers happy (oh, the horror), and care about eating food during the day, and make myself respond to phone calls and text messages, and make myself smile at photos, and encourage myself to listen when people talk to me.

Only this time, this video will be in my head.  And I’ll be trying to make myself also remember that while I’m dying, so is the person in front of me.  The cashier at the grocery store.  The attendant at the gas station.  That friend of mine.  And yes, even the comedian on my television screen.

You NEVER know what someone is going through.

So treat EVERYONE with the same care and compassion that YOU need.

The King and I

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.

Maybe not.

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.

Sigh.

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?

Stop the Ride, I Wanna Get Off.

So…

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:
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There now,

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.

SIXTY-F@#%-SEVEN.
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.

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.

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The Lovers The Dreamers And Me

The past couple weeks have been interesting to say the least.
Since learning of my blocked and useless fallopian tubes, I went on to have the period from hell…Again. This time, our new record is off and on for upwards of 37 days.

After a pretty aggressive medication regimen, my doctor and I finally decided to pull out the heavy artillery and press the reset button by scheduling a D&C and hysteroscopy.
Cue “Dun, Dun, Duuuuuuun” sound effects.

Now, leading up to this surgery, I was in quite the peculiar and bitchtastic mood, let me tell you. Hopped up on hormone pills and whatnot is not the way to keep a mellow attitude. I fell into a deep dark hole called, “I’m sick of this shit.” You ever been there?  I vacation there often, lately.

I didn’t want to post here.
I didn’t want to dream.
I didn’t want to write.
I didn’t want to do anything but go to work and come home…and they could spare me the work.
And that was hard for me because I’m a tenacious type of person. I don’t like being or feeling defeated. I don’t like feeling hopeless. But I certainly was.

So I spent a lot of evenings in my bedroom.
Laying against my pillow, cruising social media.
Thinking angry thoughts.

In the middle of my angst, however, I did spend a lot of time with one of my favorite social media addictions these days, the virtual pinboard, Pinterest.

Pinterest has a lot of uses.  It can be a way to visually collect bookmarks.  It can be a way for people to market their merchandise by baiting people to repin photos of it. It can be a lot of things, but what it has the greatest quality in, is creating vision boards.

It’s easy to get lost there for hours and see how other people have curated their dreams into these sprawling boards of hope and planning.  People pin quotes, photos, plans, etc.  I use my boards as something to look at, work on, believe in.
It was here that I regained my footing.
It is here that I want you to gain some of yours as well.

I want you to take a little time and come out of your shell. Take the opportunity to dream out loud, boldly and in full color. Let’s get creative.

What I’m proposing is that you use Pinterest to visually take a step out into the advocacy arena. Either for the infertility community as a whole, or just for yourself. From now until September 24th, I am asking all my Eggshells to join me in celebrating possibility.

Using Pinterest, I want you to create a one of two or both kinds of the following boards:
Advocacy Board: create a board that deals with Infertility Awareness, PCOS Awareness, or Adoption Awareness, etc. Pin articles, photos, or procedures that give the world a better view of what it is like to live this infertility life and of the conditions which have led you down this path.

Here’s Mine: “The Great IF: What It Looks, Feels, and Sounds like

One Day Mom Board: Create a board for your future. Pin articles, photos, or ideas that you will use when you become a mom. Adoption maternity photo shoot ideas, Birth Announcements, Homemade Baby Food How-To’s. Whatever it is that you want to be or do as a mom, pin it.

Here’s Mine: “YeYo

For an added plus, you can use the hashtag #BBEShellShocked on any pins that you want to be located through The Broken Brown Egg. I will have a link here on the site for people to catch up on our boards and any pins with that tag will pop up.  Tell others, invite family and friends to view your board.  Use it to come out of the infertility closet.

When I was at my lowest, I found it very hard to dream. Hope was at a small, small level in my heart. Dreaming, however, put me back on track to move forward. I want the same for you. And if we can enlighten the world to what WE go through at the same time, then all the better.

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