Please Fasten Your Seatbelts

I scheduled my sonohystrogram today. I thought I couldn't schedule it soon enough, until I had done it, and then it made me sick to my stomach. I still don't know how I got back here. It was like making that appointment cemented the fact that I have just gotten back on this crazy ride. I thought to myself, "Here I go. Hang on for another Ride of Your Life." I just close my eyes and shake my head. I can't believe this is happening again. It still doesn't seem completely real, and the moments where it does seem real, it makes me angry.

I am so angry to be back here. I hate being here. I hate it. I never wanted to be back here, but here I am. I think how all of this stems from a few minutes in the OR a couple of years ago when my doctor made a decision for my husband and me. I wasn't angry about it until now. As my husband put it, he was a fertility doctor, he knew the risks behind what he was doing. He should have asked my husband before he cut. He should have made my husband aware of the potential risks. He should have not performed that procedure during that surgery because he had no idea what or how far he was cutting that day. As a fertility doctor, he should have known better and should have made a more informed decision after performing testing to determine how much he should take out instead of gauging by shining light through my uterus.

That moment has cost me my dream. That decision we did not make has cost us our children.

The thing that really makes me angry is I really have no idea what I am up against yet. I have an idea, but I don't know for sure and won't for some time. I need to get the sono done, maybe the MRI, and consult with at least three specialists before we feel we will be able to move forward. My husband wants second and third opinions.

This time isn't like last time at all. This isn't give me shots in the @$$ to stim and trigger follies. This is, "If this scar tissue lets go, you will bleed internally. Your baby may suffer brain damage if it doesn't die. You may have to have an immediate hysterectomy, and you may die."

Thanks Dr. Y. Thanks a lot.

I still can't get my head around this. I am trying my damnedest, but I am at a loss. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

What I found today is that if a rupture occurs not in a hospital setting, things will get ugly fast. It doesn't matter how fast the car or the ambulance go, things will go south with a quickness. So what if I end up staying in the hospital for months on end to ensure I am there in case of a rupture? (This is what I thought to myself today.) Then we get to pay the massive hospital bills for doing so. Laboring when a rupture is possible is not permissible. Contractions are not permissible. I contracted regularly starting toward the end of my second trimester with my daughter. More than 10 in an hour 24 hours a day.

There are so many questions, and no one has the answers. I want to know how the muscle was there the day my daughter was born, was brought together and stitched up, but isn't there now. Where did it go? How did this happen?

There is so much anger in our house over this whole thing. Hubs and I just can't believe we are going through this.

Right now I keep blogging just to get all of my thoughts out. I am also hoping that someone out there has answers or insight into what I am facing.

I have been a bad blog friend the last few days, and haven't been reading blogs. I am sorry. I want to, but I don't have the head space for it right now. I am going to try to catch up tomorrow and the next day. I am so glad I didn't sign up for ICLW this month. Maybe it was prophetic that I decided not to last month. There is no way I would be able to participate when I can't even keep up with the ones I already follow.

Thanks for being here for and with me, friends. I sincerely appreciate it and all of your kind words. I hope to start getting back on my feet soon. Hopefully the sono on Friday will give us some better news. Hopefully.

And the Fun Continues...

Apparently it just isn't my week. Maybe it won't be my month. But something sure as hell hates me lately.

I came home from work at lunch today like I always do to feed the baby and spend some time with her. I stopped off on my way to get lunch for Hubs and I and then took what turned out to be the long way home. By the time I got home, I had 15 minutes to feed the baby and then head back to work. By then my fries had gotten to the cold, disgusting point, so I tossed them in the garbage, kissed Hubs and the baby, and headed back to work.

I was happily driving along when I came to an intersection. Straight across from me another driver was threatening to turn left. She moved into the intersection a bit and my heart skipped. If she pulled out there was no way I could stop in time.... She pulled out. Time slowed down as I slammed on the breaks, listened to my squealing tires, and waited for the moment of collusion. Not if, but when. *SLAM!*

I pulled through the intersection and immediately called Hubs, shaking, trying not to cry. He didn't answer, so I dialled 911. I got out of my car and went around front to assess the damage. I couldn't believe how minimal it was. My bumper wasn't dented at all, but pretty badly scuffed up. I walked back to the intersection, heart pounding, shaking like a leaf as the 911 operator picked up. When I got to the intersection I could not find the other driver at all.

"911, what's your emergency?"
"I think I've just been in a hit and run accident."

The operator instructed me to pull my car off the road into the parking lot adjacent to it and she would send the police. Just then the other driver came walking over the hill. She was a young, 18-year-old girl. I pulled into the parking lot next to her car and surveyed the damage to her back bumper. It fared as well as my front, just badly scuffed. After I got off the call we both asked each other about 100 times if the other was okay. I couldn't help it, I was so relieved we were both okay that I hugged the girl tightly to me and told her everything was okay and that it would be okay.

The cops showed up and helped us exchange information. They told me that because Texas is a no fault state that if we reported the accident it would go on BOTH of our reports, even though the accident was 100% not my fault. (Let's pretend we're surprised here. Nope, can't do it.) Long story short, we opted not to file the report and I told her I would not file with her insurance so her rates wouldn't go up. She offered to pay 100% of the damages, and I told her that was fine. I will probably call her tomorrow just to make sure she is okay. I felt so bad for her because she is so young.

On top of getting my heart going, I got a nice little sun burn from standing outside in the 100 degree heat while we were exchanging info and talking to the police. By the time I got back to work my lunch was nasty and I smelled of dirty, burning flesh.

To round out the evening Baby Bean was a pill and wanted nothing to do with me tonight. In retrospect that could be because I smelled bad. All I wanted to was play with my bean, make her smile and giggle, and all she wanted to do was be fussy. It broke my heart.

When I put her to bed, Hubs had left the drawer under her crib partially pulled out. When I went to put the side of her crib down I thought it wouldn't go down because there were a couple of shoe boxes there and ended up kicking the drawer with my foot. When Hubs asked what happened and I told him, he opted not to apologize for not pushing the drawer back in, but rather chastise me for kicking anything in the dark.

I am so ready for this week to be over. Hell, this month. I don't know how much more my nerves and heart can take.

Throwing in the Towel

I realize that we haven't been trying for a baby as long as most people out there in infertility land, and I also realize that I am a slightly impatient person, but I have decided to throw in the baby towel. We've been trying for over two and a half years now. We did treatments for a year and a half, which ended with me undergoing pretty extensive surgery that included a moderate endometrial resection, removal of a uterine septum, and ovarian drilling. We decided after the surgery that we would take a year off of treatments to see if the surgery fixed our problems, and I admit, I was hopeful. Then last month I started spotting 7 days before AF was due. Of course, like a fool I got my hopes up just the teeniest tiniest bit, while the skeptical infertile in me kept my feet on the ground, so when AF did show up my bitterness increased and all hope of ever having children on our own went out the window.

The disappointment I felt with that wonky cycle far outweighed any disappointment I felt while undergoing treatments. While I was skeptical that each treatment would work, I still had hope that pregnancy would eventually happen, and so felt the urge and desire to continue. I always felt like even though I was in the infertile statistic, I would one day change to the statistic group where I underwent treatments successfully. But after my 7 days of spotting leading up to AF last month, I felt 100% completely hopeless. Yes, the bitterness of it all has finally set in. Then to top it off, I have spent more time spotting during the last 25 days than not for this current cycle. I honest to God no longer think that children are in our cards.

I realize that most people think that when you give up that is when babies happen. All I have to say to that is that those people have never been through what I've been through, and while I appreciate their optimism on my behalf, I would appreciate those words to be unspoken at this juncture of my life. I am already in a dark place, and those words at a time like this are not a comfort. I always used to think the way those people did; that if I just gave up it would happen. But now that I am to the point where I give up, I don't feel like it will happen. Ever.

I told my sweetie last week that I want to completely give up, but surprisingly, he wouldn't have it. He wants me to at least see a new doctor here and see what she has to say different from what my last two doctors said. To appease him, I will go. But I honestly do not feel like I will ever bear a belly rounded by a growing baby. The only rounded belly I will sport is the one that gets fatter and fatter despite my cutting back on sugary snacks and meal portions and daily 4-mile walks.

I do realize that there are other options, and that we probably only scratched the IF surface during our year and a half of treatments (yes, I lied and said we had been trying for a year when we started treatments because I knew we would have a hard time getting pg on our own), but to be honest, undergoing treatments made my life a hormonal living hell, and it will be a cold day in hell before I excitedly sign myself back up for that program.

Before we moved a couple of months ago I threw out the hundreds of condoms that we bought or were given when we first got married. Yesterday I threw out the Sponge contraceptives I found lurking in the corner of a drawer. I couldn't help but smile in that moment and think that the upside to not being able to get pg means we will never need contraceptives again. I will never need to go on birth control or get an IUD (intra-uterine contraceptive). We can pretty much do whatever we want whenever we want and never need to worry about putting a bun in the oven and the inconvenience of it all. Maybe not being able to have children isn't such a bad thing.

The other side of never having kids is whom do I leave all of my crap to when I pass over? Whom do I leave my grandmother's antique furniture? I want to raise a child and be the beaming mother of the bride or groom.

I guess its just time for me to leave everything baby behind and face the facts. My hope for a family is gone. I am not the first, and I won't be the last woman to go through this. I will just have to find fulfillment through my marriage, my family, my precious pooches, and the scads of money that will build up in my bank account. Now if I could just pull myself out of my current funk. I haven't been here for long, but I already hate it and want so badly to get away from it. I hate being in this mental place. Perhaps I should turn my thoughts from babies and funks to learning my new job and really excelling at what I do and really focusing on losing my newly blooming gut that makes people ask/wonder if I am expecting (I'm really not that big at a size 4, but apparently I'm big enough).

Enough dullness for one day. I'm off to read all of your happy blogs.