The Road to Positive (Part 2 of My Fertility Journey)
I was angry. I was starting to be a bit bitter. I really didn't understand. I would listen to the news about women literally throwing babies out or mistreating them. They probably got pregnant with ease and they didn't even want these blessings.
People started asking when we were going to have a baby and this made me angrier. I really didn't want to have surgery but it seemed like it might be able to provide some insight into why I couldn't get pregnant. I decided to move forward with the laparoscopy. It was a few weeks after the New Year.
I was scared, of course, going into surgery. I didn't know what to expect or what would happen on the other end. My parents and husband were there but my husband was allowed in all the way except the operating room. I remember talking to the anesthesiologist about my life and then I drifted off into sleep. When I woke up I was in excruciating pain and I wanted to get up and out of there. Of course I couldn't go anywhere. My mother let the nurse know I was in pain and she brought me a pain killer. After an hour or so, they discharged me. I could barely walk to the car. Of course they cut into my abs and every time you stand up, sit down, lie down, basically all movement, you use your core muscles. My mother was trying to convince me to stay with her and my father at their house. It's a ranch style and even if I decided to stay in the basement apartment, it was only one flight. I lived in a five floor walk-up on the fifth floor! But no way, I just wanted to be in pain in peace. Fine! They decided they would meet me the next day for my follow-up at the doctor's office. When we got to our apartment, I tried to do the stairs slowly and one by one. I couldn't take it. My husband carried me up the stairs. That was also painful but not nearly as painful as walking. Turns out my mother was right. I needed to relax as much as possible and not jump up and down to get things. Not that my husband wasn't helpful but fresh home cooking was needed and wanted. I also needed to walk as much as possible and with 5 flights of stairs between me and the outside world, that was most likely not really going to happen. I let my parents know I would go with them after my follow-up.
At the follow-up I learned that I did suffer from endometriosis and scar tissue as a result. They removed this. I had a few fibroids. They removed those. I had a cyst. Removed. Lastly, my fallopian tubes were tangled on one side. They untangled them. They suspected that after recovery, I would get pregnant in a few months and if I didn't, they would advise me doing IVF at that point. Ok. I felt hopeful. This will happen this year!
Thanks to my husband and my mother, I walked a lot. Probably too much. I was hunched over like a little old lady and I used them as my crutches as we ran errands with my mother. When I discovered that someone had charged their J-Date subscription to my card and purchased clothing at the Zara in Russia, they walked me to the bank to replace my debit card. After a few days, my husband had cabin fever and I was in much better shape so we went back to our place. After I made a full recovery, we resumed "trying" but several months later, nothing.
I was really starting to get annoyed. Irritated. I just didn't understand. When people have unprotected sex, things are supposed to happen. A woman is supposed to get pregnant. Other woman in my circle were getting pregnant. I didn't want to be around them. I had to stop speaking to a friend of mine for a little while because she was pregnant and of all the people she could complain to daily about how uncomfortable her pregnancy was, she chose Infertile Me. My mom urged me to trust God. Forget God! I thought. He forgot about me. I decided to try a new specialist. One of the best in the city. We went straight for IVF. Once I was ready to start my cycle, I had to take nightly shots and go for testing every morning. I ate butter pecan ice cream to make my evenings better. I sang loudly 'you can't keep a good dog down' to just get by. As it got closer to my egg retrieval, we discovered I only had two eggs. TWO?! Most women undergoing IVF get at least 5 or 6 sometimes 8 or 10! I had 2 and after retrieval, they discovered only one was viable. The second one crumbled. CRUMBLED??!! How does this happen??? Then again, one is really all you need, I reminded myself. After all of that, I ended up with the same shot at pregnancy as before all those nights of shots and early morning monitoring.
When they gave me a photo of my blastocyst, I kept a photo in my phone. I talked to him because I decided it was a boy and I named him. In a few weeks, they would confirm that he was indeed in the building. Those two weeks waiting felt like the longest two weeks of my life. That morning I went in for my pregnancy blood test. In a few hours, when I saw their number on my phone, I immediately ran off the desk to take the call. When the nurse said, "Unfortunately, you are not pregnant." My mind went blank.