Dropping the Bomb

Hello Warriors of the Womb!

Yes it is 12:10 am Monday morning and YES I should be asleep. However, I just finished a week of staycation time at home, meaning I got to stay up as late as I want and wake up whenever I wanted, meaning these next few days will suck sleeping wise. However-none of that matters. I have major updates!

Last Thursday I went to see my beloved OB/GYN. And I don’t say that sarcastically. I know a lot of you have had bad experiences with OB/GYN’s trying to help with infertility-but I love mine. He’s always been honest about the limitations of his abilities, but he has tried so many things to help me and we have been working together for almost two years now. I feel a lot of affection towards him and I think the feeling is mutual because on Thursday when he saw me for the first time in three months he came into my exam room and gave me a hug. Guys, I just love him. Anyway, after we exchanged some pleasantries and I was able to tell him that, shockingly, Lupron DIDN’T suck the big one, he asked this million dollar question:

“Do you want to get pregnant soon?”

To which my automatic response, of course, was “Um, yes.”

Except for here is the thing-I thought I had until January! The last time we talked he said that he thought January would be about the right time to give my body lots of time to come off of lupron and start up and get pregnant. Apparently I misunderstood-the last time we talked he thought I’d be pregnant by January-maybe February, because he wants me to start, like, NOW. So here’s what’s up: 12 days of prometrium (I’m on day 3) and then we wait for the period. If the period doesn’t come because I’ve been on Lupron so there may not be much lining to shed then seven days after my last prometrium counts as day one of the cycle, and days 3-7 I’m taking Femara (can we all say a big Hallelujah that I don’t have to take Clomid again?!), and then days 12-16 are intercourse intercourse intercourse. He said that we could have sex as often as 12 hours, because that’s all that most men take to “refill”. I clarified with him that once a day would suffice, and he felt that it would (I mean, we’re young, but every 12 hours? Yowzers).

We’re going to do this for three months and he seemed very positive and almost excited-he really thinks that we have a good shot-especially on month two or three. He said we should temper our expectations for the first month.

So this is what we’re doing, and I’m totally cool with it, but when I came home from the doctor that day I sort of fell apart. I hadn’t had to think about ANY of this for the last five or six months really. Especially the last three months since my surgery. I had forgotten what it was like to live a life that DIDN’T revolve around fertility drugs and a sex schedule. Also, over the last year I had sort of convinced myself that not having kids would be okay (which, in the end, it would) and that there were definite advantages to not having kids. I’m not wrong here. Freedom to do what we want, when we want, more money, less stress on our marriage, etc. etc. So when Chief came home and we started talking about it, I really went into a downward spiral of “maybe I don’t want to do this anymore”. He was supportive and said that being a dad was something he felt like he could handle with me by his side, but if I decided that parenting wasn’t for me then he would support me on it. He had league bowling that night and I told him to go ahead and go, because I felt like I needed some space to think about the situation.

I texted a friend of mine who had a baby a year ago and asked her to call me, and even though I had calmed down and stopped sobbing by the time she called, I still just fell apart when she started talking to me. But talking to her was the best choice I could have made. She was so certain and reassuring. There was no doubt in her voice that becoming a mother (even though she has to do a lot of it on her own because her husband travels during the week) was the best decision of her life, and by the end of the conversation my priorities had refocused. By the next morning when I woke up, I couldn’t believe I had ever doubted.

I am scared of not having enough money for daycare, or enough time for my husband, or selfishly, enough time for me, but I still know that I want this. I think what I was also really afraid of was how much I want it, and how much it hurts when it doesn’t happen.

So there’s your scatterbrained update friends. Wish me and my defective womb luck. It was Chief and I’s second wedding anniversary this week-maybe that’s a good sign.

Growing and growing

Thank you, thank you for all of your sweet and kind words. That last post is one of the truest and most emotional I’ve ever put down. It was such a big part of me that apparently I had to disappear for a while. It showed a lot of personal growth that I didn’t realize was happening this summer, and today I’m going to tell you about some more.

 

I have decided to stop protecting assholes who ask me when I’m going to have a baby. And by protecting I mean I’m no longer going to say “Oh, you know, when the time is right” or, my personal favorite “We’re just enjoying spending time together and don’t want to rush into anything”.

I don’t know if my mellow menopause time is wearing off (who knew that would be the result of Lupron?) and I’m turning back into a human being or what, but this past weekend a really great friend of mine got married and there were various parties to attend in her honor. One of them was a stock the bar party on Thursday night and when I got there, this totally vile girl that I went to middle and high school with was there. She is 25 like me and already has two kids. The first one was a one night stand accident, the second she planned with her husband and it took her three whole months to get pregnant, so you know, she’s really struggled.

Anyway, the moment I saw that she was there I instantly wanted to leave. Besides her being a terrible person all the way through school (I can tell you stories, but that would be a digression from the truly heinous thing that she did at this party), she’s also one of those mothers who has to post exactly the right way to do things on FB. I mean, you just HAVE to have an all natural childbirth, and you HAVE to exclusively breast feed, and if you don’t have a midwife, well, clearly you are insane, and you know, if you don’t encapsulate your placenta then you’ll go crazy and murder people and stuff. I’m not saying that natural child birth, EBF, midwifes, and encapsulated placenta aren’t great. I would be just as annoyed if she was spouting the opposite side of things-because NO ONE has to do something like someone else. There is definitely a wrong way to do things, but having a c-section or an epidural is NOT wrong, using only doctors and not a midwife is NOT WRONG, using formula exclusively or mixing formula and breast feeding is NOT WRONG. That whole placenta thing is a personal choice. They’re all personal choices and no one, NO ONE needs to push people into things, especially on facebook. She is obsessed with her own point of view and with childbirth and getting pregnant. So needless to say, I dreaded seeing her. Dreaded it.

When I walked in she was already talking about her natural childbirth. She was drinking a white russian and announced to the bar that she would be “pumping and dumping” to which I wanted to say “NO ONE ASKED”. Then she went on to say that her next baby would be born at home in the bath tub. Again, I’m not trying to sound judgey. I don’t CARE how people have their children as long as it’s safe and everyone turns out okay, but at someone else’s WEDDING party we really don’t need to hear you shouting about placenta and PH test strips for breast milk.

And then, as I knew would happen, she turned to me and my husband and YELLED across the room full of my friends from high school, “So, when are YOU TWO going to get pregnant?!”

And guys, something in me sort of snapped at that point. I could have handled it the way I always do, but I said fuck no to that. She’s going to try and butt into our personal life? Well she’s going to get an earful. So I responded in this manner:

“Actually, we’ve been trying for almost two years. I have endometriosis and PCOS and had surgery this year. We don’t really know what our prognosis is, but it’s a pretty painful and emotional situation we’ve been having to deal with. We have hopes for the future, but are tempering them with the reality that it just might not happen for us.”

 

I didn’t say it in an angry way, or a sad way. Just a realistic, here’s what’s happening sort of way. And she basically shrugged, looked really embarrassed at her behavior, and turned away to talk to someone else. One of my friends who is a kind and caring person said, “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were going through that” to which I responded, “Well, it’s pretty hard to tell everyone about it. No one wants to have to admit that they have a broken uterus” to which the terrible awful girl then turned around and said “Well, MY uterus certainly isn’t broken!”

I. AM. NOT. SHITTING. YOU.

My husband squeezed my arm and gave me a look that said “If I don’t walk out of this room right now I WILL punch her in the face”, so I patted him on the back and told him to get some air. I stayed and talked with the nice person who was HORRIFIED on my behalf. HORRIFIED. I was mad, I won’t shit you. But something I’m learning is that we can only control our own behavior, and you know what? I behaved like a fucking queen that night. I was gracious, and honest, and I’m not afraid to pat myself on the back for it. So there is your dose of personal growth for the week. I encourage all of you to do the same to those who might attack you for your uterine deficiencies, because it feels really good to see the smug look on their face be replaced with embarrasment. And all the shit we go through DOES  make us stronger than the average woman, so I’m done being ashamed of it. We are survivors just like anyone else. Don’t any of you EVER forget it.