The View From Down Here

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A quick peek inside my head.

Well, here I am. A little less than two weeks post surgery. I’m feeling much better physically.

But mentally, yikes. If you could see my thoughts right now, you’d be like, whoa. They’d be all black clouds and evil robots and scary vintage dolls with those flip-lid eyes and I don’t even know what else.

Things were ok for a while. Initially after the surgery I felt relief. It’s over, hooray! I have endometriosis, hooray! It may seem strange to feel relieved upon finding out you have an incurable disease, but I was just glad that we finally had some answers. So many things were explained: the spotting before my period (endometriosis on my cervix), frequent urination (endometriosis on my bladder), the pain in my lower right side that doctors had been dismissing for years (endometriosis on my ovary) and my crap-quality eggs (endometriosis everywhere). And even better, all of it was removed! (P.S. the surgeon did remove the endo on my ovary – in my anesthesia-addled state I misheard the him.) For the moment at least, I am endometriosis free!

I was also feeling happy with myself. Happy that I kept searching and digging until I finally got some answers. That I didn’t give up. That I trusted my gut and listened to Dr. Braverman when he told me to get surgery after a ten minute phone consult. I was like, well, this is totally crazy, but I think he’s right so I’m going for it.

And he was right. We both were.

So yeah, I was feeling pretty good for a few days, despite the pain.

But then, I don’t even know what happened.

Maybe it was the fact that recovery was worse than I’d expected.

Maybe it’s because, as relieved as I was, it started sinking in that I have an incurable disease. Yes, the endometriosis is gone, but it usually comes back at some point.

Maybe it’s because, despite my very best efforts, I can’t seem to get my stupid teeth situation under control. Like, I can’t remember a time when my teeth didn’t hurt. One gets fixed and another one gets jacked up. It’s never ending.

Maybe it’s because we’ve been going at this babymaking crap for over two years.

Maybe it’s because I’m staring down the barrel of our last IVF. One final chance and that’s it.

Maybe it’s because after all of our talk of adoption, I don’t know if that’s truly going to end up being a valid option for us. We don’t have the cash up front right now to make it happen, so we’d have to either borrow money, clear out our dire-emergency-only funds, save for years or a combination of the three. Not to mention the fact that this fertility journey has already taken a toll on my relationship with Tim. We’re not headed to Divorce City or anything like that, but I think we both agree that we’ve seen happier days. What would another two or so years going through the adoption process do to us? Yes, I want another child more than almost anything, but not at the cost of my marriage. I’m not saying adoption is off the table, but it’s certainly going to require further discussion and exploration.

So when all is said and done, we may end up without another child. Which means we would have spent years on this journey with nothing to show for it — nothing good anyway. Two dead babies. A sharps container full of needles. A strained marriage.  Not to mention that I’m now the kind of person who rolls my eyes when I see a pregnancy announcement — so essentially I’ve become someone who begrudges others their happiness. And I’m sure I’m a worse parent to Lettie than I would have been if I didn’t go through any of this stuff. How many times have I been obsessing about my fertility, or lack thereof, instead of being in the present moment with the amazing child that I already have? How many times? Just thinking about it makes me want to cry my eyes out. She deserves better than that. Tim deserves better than a wife who’s anxious, upset and preoccupied all the time.

And there it is, the root of why I’ve been feeling so low lately: maybe I’ve fought valiantly for the last two years, but I’m not sure I like the person I’ve become.

Finding Our Way

which-way-to-goI’m not going to lie, these last few weeks have been rough. Really rough. In some ways, this failed IVF cycle hit me even harder than my last miscarriage. I know that might seem strange, but after our last loss, I still had so much hope. I knew IVF worked for us, and it seemed like maybe it was just a matter of time before we got lucky again. But let’s just say the last cycle and its accompanying diagnosis of DOR was a rude awakening. I’m not saying IVF can’t work for us, but it won’t be easy. Tim and I had to think hard about if we really wanted to fight this uphill battle to have another biological child. Because that’s what it is from here on out–a decidedly uphill battle.

So I did a lot of crying, a lot of feeling sorry for myself and, for lack of a less cheesy term, a lot of soul searching. Tim and I had several long, difficult talks. In the end, here’s what we decided.

There’s a limit to how much my body can deal with–I’m talking about the hormones, the poking and prodding, the minor surgeries, etc. I’m almost at my limit.

There’s a limit to how much our family can handle–the stress of endless appointments, injection timing, days off of work and in general putting our life on hold for treatments. We are almost at that limit.

There’s a limit to how much Tim and I can cope with the emotional roller coaster of hope and sadness, hope and sadness. We are almost at that limit.

We have a deep longing to parent another child. We will do almost anything to get there except ruin our marriage, destroy our financial future or negatively impact our relationship with the child that we already have. Do we have a deep longing to give birth to another child that looks just like Lettie? Nope. We want to parent. We want to share our love for life with a child. We want Lettie to have a sibling. These are the things that matter to us.

To that end, here’s our plan.

Because it is covered by insurance, we will do one more IVF cycle with our current doctor, likely in June. To prepare for that I’m taking DHEA and CoQ10 (both supposed to help with DOR). I’ve always read that you need to take these things for at least three months to make a difference, but my doctor thinks it’s still worth taking in the short term. She says three months is what’s been studied, so that’s why everyone says three months. Less than three hasn’t been studied yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t help. There will be a new protocol this time, called micro-flare. It’s basically the last-ditch protocol for ailing ovaries. Birth control is typically used, but because of my blood clotting issue, my doctor says no birth control for me ever again. So we’ll do estrogen priming instead. Unless something crazy awesome happens (you never know), that’s likely it for us for fresh IVF cycles.

We will keep our phone consults with CCRM and Dr. Braverman next week. We’ve decided not to pursue CCRM beyond that call, but they might say something interesting that we can take back to our doctor. We may or may not end up traveling to NY to see Dr. Braverman for immune testing, depending on the cost with out of network insurance. We have decided that we will ultimately not pursue treatment with him, but I would still like to know if I have any immune issues (other than the one I already know about), should we decide to continue trying on our own or use donor eggs in the future.

If the fresh IVF in June doesn’t work, we will transfer our one remaining frozen blastocyst.

After that? We are all in for adoption. It’s time for a new chapter. We need to move on, and move forward.

We went to our first adoption support group this week. It was kind of great and kind of terrifying. It really put into perspective how long the process takes, and how much of yourself you need to put into it. It has just as much potential for heartbreak as infertility, but hopefully, at the end there will be another child. It’s not a sure bet–nothing is–but it’s as close as you can get in this world.

So here we are.

Still sad from all that has come to pass, yet steadfastly hopeful for the future, we find ourselves preparing for a whole new journey.