4

Those voices in my head…

In the past few days I have written many posts which I went on to abandon. They now lie half-written, awaiting their fate in my wordpress folder. Why did I not complete them? I don’t have a clear answer, only that each time I began with an honest attempt to describe my increasingly muddy feelings, somewhere along the way words fell short of being able to accurately convey the churning cesspool that’s my overworked mind right now. I have to do it though, for myself, else I feel my head just might explode into smithereens and well, mashed brain pulp is not my ideal choice of wall decor!!

It’s strange… this crazy place I’m in ever since we got back from Colorado. I swing from emotion to emotion like a restless monkey in search of elusive bananas (umm yea I realize the ridiculousness of that analogy but that’s the best I can come up with right now!). Everything seems stuck, I feel stuck in a crazy numbed place from which there doesn’t seem to be any way out. The world is moving, moving on as I helplessly look out from my insulated glass bubble. Did I mention the insulation is one-way? I can hear them perfectly but my cries or my relentless banging on the glass gets no attention. There are women getting pregnant, they’re swelling up in joy, rubbing their bellies protectively and I’m just watching them. There are babies all around–heart-beakingly cute, crazily adorable little people but they’re not mine and I am burning up in envy watching those whom they call Mom and Dad.

My husband works harder than ever before and it breaks my heart to see him scavenge for hope as we ride the positive-negative see-saw every single day, multiple times a day. He reassures me, he rubs my feet, he hugs me like he’ll never let go. But when he speaks about ‘his baby’, the child he hopes we will have, perhaps a little girl just like me… I fervently wish then that the earth would swallow me up. I silently rage at God, I grovel and plead–for him, if not for me… please, please, please.

There’s sadness and dark things happening to really nice people. Some are losing their babies, after years of trying and treatments. Others are fading away from what they used to be. No one has an answer to the white-elephant-like, ginormous WHY’s that silently reverberate across collective minds. Empty arms are aching reminders of lack. When I hear of this colossal suffering, I feel ashamed of my own grief. Yet, can grief or loss ever be compared? Is it a relative construct or a personal version of hell?

Amidst all this misery, however, there is life, clamoring to be heard. Life is shoving its way through despair and frustration and showing itself in two pink lines on a plastic stick. Life is showing its blurry face in a grainy ultrasound and making itself heard through a tinny flickering heartbeat. What am I more today? Depressed over the heartlessness of injustice or unhealthily covetous of the blessing of abundance? I am both, I suppose… and more. I am infinitely happy for fellow bloggers finally getting pregnant after years of disappointments and I am heartbroken for those who have experienced mind-numbing loss.

Every day I wake up with a sinking feeling. One more day gone, one less day without my precious baby, one day less of being a mother. Then I remind myself of all that I have. My husband, my life, my biggest blessing. All the comforts a person can ask for. A healthy body (umm apart from its reproductive dysfunctionality, that is!!), a brain that mostly does its job, a great family… there’s a lot to be thankful for. Yet this craving to be a mother has robbed me of the ability to purely enjoy life and all it has to offer. I am learning though. Learning that enjoying the present does not mean I have necessarily given up on the future that I so earnestly desire. Learning that it’s not just about me; there is another breathing, living person enduring this hell with me and for his sake I must get out of bed each day and smile and go for movies and cook yummy food and well… sometimes there’s no greater joy than doing that.

I stay awake some nights wondering why why why can I not dream of my baby? Why do I get inane high school dreams and dreams of people who are no longer in my life and why can I not, instead, just dream of being a mother? If it occupies all my waking time then why does my most cherished desire stay away from my dreams? Is it a sign? I don’t want it to be a sign. Other nights, I stay up worrying about our finances. We have already spent so much and there is yet more coming and God alone knows where the finish line is. We have had to buy a new car because our old one was breaking down all the time and we were paying so much every month. New car, however, means higher car payments. Our rent is going up. Again. In the past two years our rent has gone up by $350 a month! Yet anything else we seek out is still more expensive. We need to stay in the area because my doctor’s here, my acupuncturist is and well, yes I know we could move somewhere and find new providers but the thing is anywhere else would only be marginally cheaper. And I love where we live right now. I feel that if this is also snatched away from me, I will seriously slip into depression. I wonder if we will ever get out of an apartment and into a house of our own. I feel sickened with the realization that if my body could just do its thing, we would not be going through this hell.

I go out, meet friends and watch them with their kids. Some of them know how hard we are struggling, others (most) have no clue. They hug their babies, play with them and tell us that we should have kids too. I smile and nod as my heart goes up in flames. I play with their kids, especially the little girls. I hold them close, smell their baby smell and I wonder, in a strange and detached manner, can hearts actually shatter? Do they make a noise or do they just crack apart silently?

Some days I feel just fine. I am able to drive around, run errands and walk into Target and Costco and Whole Foods and not bat an eyelid at the swollen bellies, the adorable toddlers running amok; heck even the newborn aisle does not faze me. Yet there are other days when a partial glimpse, even, of a striped onesie can feel like a solid kick in the gut. I think that next year is certainly my year, I can feel my dream about to come true. I can feel that it is our time now. And almost as soon as that thought crystallizes in my mind, a gush of fear stands poised, threatening to drown it out. Determined, I start surfing baby strollers online. I will make this happen, I tell fear. I will NOT let you win. It is MY time. I look at the bangles I wear. One is for my baby. When I made a fervent plea to God to bless me with a child. That was in the summer of 2011. I truly felt that God has listened and in 2012 when I got pregnant I felt my faith was proven. Yet, it did not last… neither the pregnancy nor the certainty that it would happen.

So where does this leave me? Like every other day. Just as I embraced the intrusive testing, the needles and the procedures, the envy and the sadness, the yoga and the acupuncture, the need for patience and the necessity of faith.. I embrace the amusement park that is my mind. I embrace the insecurity and the fear, the positivity and the hope and through it all I remind myself–this, too, shall pass πŸ™‚

Advertisements
0

Rewind…

I know for anyone reading a fertility blog it is always a matter of curiosity as to what condition(s) the blog writer is dealing with. So here’s my glittering track record πŸ™‚

Me: 35, Endo, Low AMH, DOR, slightly elevated immunology

DH: 38, Very low morphology, otherwise healthy

Dec 2005–Dx with ovarian cysts, advised to operate. Took BCP for a year, cysts disappeared!

Dec 2010–Got married ❀

July 2011–decided to start trying for baby. First doc appt. told have huge fibroid in uterus (8cm), advised immediate surgery. Total freakout, in denial for 6 months.

Sept-Nov 2011: try naturally with ovulation trigger (HCG). BFN

Dec 2011: 1st IUI (natural). BFN.

Jan 2012: Laparoscopic myomectomy. Fibroid successful removed, slight blockage indicated in left tube. Advised to hold off ttc for 3 months. Start acupuncture.

April 2012: Move to Bay Area. New RE. Dx with PCOS, endo, IR. Put on metformin 1000mg/ daily, several supplements, asked to walk after each meal, yoga, acupuncture etc. Resume ttc. BFP on first try!! Ecstatic!!

May 2012: 1st u/s shows nothing. HCG plateaus. Suspected ectopic. D&C w/ methotrexate. Devastated 😦

June 2012: frozen labs confirm uterine pregnancy aka regular miscarriage not ectopic. Thank God!

July 2012: Rubella shot, cannot try this month

Aug 2012: BFN

Sept 2012: 2nd natural IUI. Everything looks great but BFFN! Plus, suspected OHSS from HCG shot later revised to possible endo flare-up. Left ovary enlarges and stays enlarged for 2 months. In extreme pain. Emergency surgery advised.

Nov 2012: Left ovary finally starts shrinking.

Dec 2012: Hawaii!! BFN though 😦

Jan 2013: BFN. Start looking for IVF options.

Feb 2013: Anastrozole + BCP + Doxy to try shrink endo. India vacation = family time πŸ™‚

March 2013: Decide on Dr. Zouves for IVF. Advised surgery for left side hyrdosalpinx. Dx with low AMH (0.48), slightly elevated immunology: blood clotting antibodies + TH1/ cytokines. Rx: baby aspirin, Lovenox at time of transfer and 2 intra-lipid infusions before and after ER.

April 2013: Laparoscopy to clip left tube and remove surface endo. Surgery successful.

May 2013: IVF # 1 w. Dr. Zouves. Antagonist protocol. 9 follies, 7 eggs retrieved, 5 mature, 3 make it to day 6 blasts. All chromosomally abnormal. FET canceled. Advised donor eggs. Shattered, completely shattered.

June 2013: BFN (although tried only one day)

July 2013: onwards to exploring new options.

0

Need I?

I debated for a long time whether or not I wanted to put in the public domain (however anonymously) what is an intensely private matter for a woman. I took both sides and vociferously argued going back and forth like a rolling kiwi (the fruit, not the bird!) on a see-saw (do NOT ask me why I came up with that particular analogy… it just comes from a deep, wise place within me!). I even went as far as creating this blog, titling it and then just forgot all about it. Well… I didn’t forget. I just decided to consciously ignore it. A part of me was superstitious that if I start blogging about my problems they will never go away. But as day after day goes by and I scavenge the online world (like an archaeologist on a mission to find the rarest fossil) for other blogs that might give me answers, insights, advice or even that much needed friend -hope, I realize that blogging is not just me trying to save the spouse’s hard earned money from going to a shrink; it’s also about putting my experiences out there so that tomorrow, perhaps, someone else might benefit from what I have to say. Tomorrow, perhaps some other lonely soul might read this and realize that hey, she is not alone in feeling all the 462719442 (… and counting!) emotions that ricochet through her mind and heart at any given time of the day. Or, at the very least, tomorrow, perhaps, someone else just might gain a teeny bit of what we women tend to feel dissipating the fastest as we set forth on this journey to create miniatures of ourselves–a little something called hope!