Today at my workout class the receptionist thanked me for being “so brave” by blogging about my fertility journey. It caught me off guard only because I often forget how public my story is and I forget people know my face and connect me with infertility.
I took a few months break from blogging about my journey because, quite literally, there was either nothing to blog about, or it was far too painful to put into words. Since my last surgery I’ve done 3 cycles of treatments (shots, pills, charting, blah blah blah), including two unsuccessful IUIs. Yep, bummer.
The last round with my previous fertility center was a bit rough (to say the least):
- First, I called to let them know there were 3 pills per day in my prescription, rather than 2 pills a day like I’d been taking. The response from the PA was, “Take 2 or 3, or whatever you’re comfortable with.” Um, I’m not comfortable with that response!
- Then, I called my doctor to tell him I was upset with that approach and he went over the plans for the cycle with me and I realized I’d also not been made aware of the fact that my injections were changing this cycle, too.
- Lastly, I went in for my IUI ($600 a pop) and found out the PA would be the one doing the procedure, not my doctor! I have nothing against PAs, but I think I’m WAY past having a PA. I should be considered a VIP in the office, given my history, not passed on to a PA.
After that IUI failed (shocker), the PA calls to tell me I should start thinking about ISO/IVF, which is the final and last possible option for a fertility patient, skipping over more IUIs, changing meds, a few rounds of IVF, etc. This sent me into a tailspin of self-loathing, depression, guilt, blame…you name it, I felt it. I decided it was time for a change!
I took my charts, films, scans, labs, and the rest of my fabulous autobiography to Texas Fertility Center, where 7 of my dear friends have experienced success. I’d be lying if I said I did not have an absolute panic attack in this office. I was used to being known at my doctor’s office. They knew my name, my chart, my story, etc. Now, here I was at square 1, unfamiliar with anything or anyone. The waiting room was cold, packed, and busy. My palms were sweating, my heart was racing, and I literally felt like I was going to start climbing the walls to safety if I didn’t see the doctor soon. Thank heavens for the support of my friends via text messages.
So, after almost 30 months of trying to conceive unsuccessfully, 1 surgery, 400 scans, countless cycles of meds, tens of thousands of dollars down the drain, and an emotional rollercoaster so unbelievably dizzying, I find out on day 1 with the new doctor that I have a uterine septum. Wait…I have a what?! A uterine septum? How is this just NOW being discovered?! You’re telling me that this should have (and could have) been seen during my HSG in October 2013? You mean this should have (and could have) been fixed during my laproscopy in May? What?!
Yep. It was confirmed, not only by my new doctor, but also by 3 other specialists in his practice. I was livid! Pissed! Hurt! Discouraged! Outraged! And seriously confused! How has this not been seen already?! Just now I’m finding out there’s a septum, easily removed by a day surgery, that has been preventing any fertilized follicles from attaching and resulting in a pregnancy?! Apparently, the top of my uterus is like an inverted rook, and although mine is very mild, it is there. My poor fertilized babies have been trying to find a safe spot in their mama and attach to me and they can’t because of the damn dam in their way! How does one recover from this discovery so late in the game?! Ugh!!!
Part of me wanted to throw my hands in the air and scream, “That’s it! I quit!” But, what would that help? What would quitting now do for me? How much more anger and resentment would fester inside me if I allowed this setback to stop me from growing my family?
So, I did what any normal Texas girl would do. I draped myself in my best Kendra Scott pieces, put on my Lucchesse boots, and went to a wine fest! I drank wine, I ate what I wanted, I laughed with friends, and I pretended like having a baby was the last thing on my mind. But, like always, it’s never not on my mind. I want a family. I want to be a mom. I want to experience every heartache and joy that motherhood brings.
I’ve scheduled the surgery to have the septum removed October 10th. I’ll have to take some more time off from treatments again and be put on birth control, but then, I’m gonna keep on truckin’!
Got any words of encouragement?