Monday it is...

Just returned from Dr. B's office, the reproductive endocrinologist that Johnson sent us to.  He managed to do the saline histogram with far less pain than she did, but with pretty much the same lack of result.  Yep, there is some sort of 'stricture' as he put it, a blockage, an adhesion that won't allow the catheter to actually go very far and thus, they can't see anything or know anything - except that I need to do the hysteroscopy surgery on Monday as scheduled.  

The hope is that Johnson will be able to visualize what at this point can only be faintly seen and felt through an ultrasound.  The other hope is that the blockage or adhesion is a small area that she can simply cut through, opening up the rest of my uterus and that all will be back to normal after that.  Well, semi-normal.  Even if all of that goes smoothly and the adhesions are minor, it will require me to be on estrogen for at least a month - which translates into another month or two until we would even be able to try to conceive.  

It's a bummer. But more than that, I'm just pissed that I didn't insist on the histogram sooner.  I knew at the end of November that something wasn't right, that my period felt like it should have come but didn't.  If we had started this process then, well, who knows.  Instead, we are now 5 months down the road and only hoping that 6-7 months down the road, well...that we can actually even be on the road!  Right now, we're just going to have to spend a few months at this pitiful truck stop they call infertility and hope that we actually move forward some time soon.  

I hope it goes well. I hope it's not a worse case scenario.  I hope my doctor knows what she's doing.  I hope that new adhesions don't form.  I hope we are able to try again soon.  I hope we are successful.  

Small Celebrations

Dr. Johnson is awesome.  Yesterday after work, I noticed three calls from a blocked number.  I didn’t give it too much thought since how the hell could I call ‘blocked’ back?  As I pulled up into the driveway, ‘blocked’ called again.  It was Johnson. 

“Hey, how you feeling?” 

“Aahhh, you know, frustrated. I just wish we knew what was going on.”

“I know; I’m frustrated, too.  Not as much as you probably, but I am for sure.”

The thing about Dr. Johnson is that I believe her.  That’s part of why she is awesome, but also because even though I didn’t specifically ask her to, she decided to call a good friend of hers who is a reproductive endocrinologist.  She told him all about me and what has led us up to now.  He has agreed to see me on Thursday before the hysteroscopy the following Monday.  Hallelujah!  I don’t know why this makes me so excited.  I guess it’s just the feeling that an expert in fertility (or infertility, depending on if your glass is half empty) will be giving me some advice and know-how.  He came from Johns Hopkins – he must be a rock star, right?

When I spoke with his nurse this morning, she said that he would attempt the do the saline histogram that Johnson tried to do but was unable to do, along with an ultrasound.  I’m so hopeful that he will be able to do the histogram.  Even that will give us a great deal of information.  If he is able to see the uterine lining, he will be able to tell if there is scarring or any number of other possible physical issues that are the problem.  If there are, then we will go ahead with the hysteroscopy on Monday, but at least with an idea of what to expect once Johnson gets in there. 

And if there aren’t, then we know that it might have to do with hormones, ovaries, or something else.  And then, we can work that route.  Brett says it’s like “House.”  Right…just like it.  I just want to be optimistic that we will get some answers on Thursday.  I really, really hope so.

So now, it’s on to celebrate this blasted birthday.  Brett says I’m being a little Don Draperish about the whole thing. 

Zou Bisou Bisou. 

(And sorry if you don’t get the reference, but you really should be watching Mad Men!)

Not out of the woods...yet

It has been a little over 29 days and the joy and elation I felt when my period finally returned has seriously dissipated.  Our trip to Mexico was a wonderful reprieve from worrying about this ever-elusive baby and from waking every morning to take my temperature.  Instead, I tried to sleep in (despite the loud neighbors and roosters) and take it easy.  I felt optimistic that things were now ‘back on track’ and that we simply needed to get back on the horse.

Oh…how naïve.  This week has been tough.  When we returned from Mexico, I started temping again.  It appeared that I had just ovulated and I watched each day as my temperatures seemed to soar higher and higher.  In fact, the highest I have seen them since my whole adventure into BBT (basal body temperature) began.  I even noticed that my temps went triphasic, which can often be a predictor of implantation and consequently a positive pregnancy test.  However, I kept getting negative tests.  I realized, the morning my temperature dropped from 98.2 to 97.6 that we were definitely out of the game this month. 

  

But oddly, that wasn’t where things turned bad.  It was in the days following.  I had told myself that regardless of the outcome – pregnant or not pregnant this month – I would be content that things were progressing in a positive way.  My cycle had returned, my body was getting back into the swing, and in time, we would get that positive test and we’d be on our way to building this family.  When my ‘period’ did arrive this month it lacked all gusto.  I am only calling it a period because it arrived when it should have.  It’s punctual; I’ll give it that.  But what it said loud and clear to me was that things are still not right. 

I called Dr. Johnson yesterday after the one-day period and our plans for the hysteroscopy on April 30^th are back on.  Yesterday was hard.   I think it is all compounded by the fact that I turn 37 next week and it makes me wonder if I will have a baby while I’m 37.  Will it take longer than this year? Will it never happen?  Then what?  For the first time in decades, I don’t feel like celebrating my birthday.  I don’t feel celebratory at all – about anything.  I just want this birthday to pass, for the months to pass until we actually have good news.  Right now, nothing feels very good at all.

When I got off the phone with Johnson’s office, I did what anyone with half a brain will tell you not to do.  I searched the Internet to find any information about pregnancy after hysteroscopy with removal of adhesions, which, in my completely untrained opinion, is the diagnosis.  For once, the first link listed was a woman my age, asking the same question.  And unlike what you usually find when you play this sort of World Wide Web roulette, the responses were so positive.  Women saying that yes, the cycle right after their procedure, they were pregnant.  And it wasn’t just one woman saying that, it was many.   And although I finished reading and felt optimistic and hopeful, it still left me feeling overwhelmed with sadness. 

I know I keep saying it, and I keep telling myself, our time will come – it will.  It’s just getting harder to believe it when any time it seems we get close to our dream, it keeps moving further away. 

In the same boat

In a few days we are headed to the sunny shores of Sayulita, Mexico for some much needed and much deserved relaxation.  The weather in Portland has been unseasonably cold.  Yesterday, we had a 2-hour late start at school due to overnight snow.  It’s March 22^nd for crying out loud!

It has been months since I actually started writing this blog and about a month since it actually has gone live.  Being an English teacher, I thought it would be good to start writing for myself again and seeing as to the emotional state I was in last fall, I needed to get stuff out. It’s funny though because I could have just kept a journal.  But for some reason, I needed to get it out of my head and even, my house.  When I began to tell the story to friends, I learned that so many of the women in my current circle had similar experiences and in most cases, I’d never known!  It is reassuring to know that I am not the only woman on the planet who had a miscarriage and whose body was acting kooky. 

I knew that writing the story would be healing for me, but what I didn’t expect was the degree to which other’s stories have impacted me.  So many of you, some from my present, some from my past and some from my distant past (a special shout to those of you I’ve know since high school, even elementary school!) have contacted me and your stories have meant so much to me.  It is helpful and heartbreaking all at once to read your emails.  It seems we have kept our stories guarded and close to our hearts.  I find that interesting and it has made me wonder why.

Yes, it’s painful.  That’s one reason I didn’t or couldn’t talk about it.  But for me, and I’m not sure how universal this next part is, there is something to it about feeling less than, feeling inadequate.  I mean, for heaven’s sake it is within our biology to make babies – our bodies are supposed to do it without us having to think about it.  Even the act of is based on instinct.  No one really has to teach us!  And yet, here I am and my body has failed at the most basic level.  And in turn, it feels like I failed.

For the last few months, whenever I would hear about or see pregnant women, and yes, it seems like they are everywhere right now – like a zombie infestation – it has been hard not to feel envy, anxiety, sadness and longing.  My acupuncturist, Jo, went through similar fertility issues and she reminded me of changing the message that inner voice keeps playing.  Instead of “Why not me?” it is, “One day, that will be me.”  It isn’t easy though; cynicism comes way too easy for me.  But it is a good practice for me and I find that it is getting easier with time.   I think that is where all of your stories come in.  It helps to imagine, to remember how common the stories of lost pregnancies are and to think that perhaps that newly pregnant mom has waited months or years for her moment.  It is quite possible that she and her husband struggled and waited, cried and loss, before finally getting their moment in the sun.  When I think of it that way, it is easy for me to replace the envy, the anxiety, with joy and excitement.  To share in what must be the joy they feel, knowing that one day, it really will be me.  And for those of you in the same boat, it will be you, too.