Just Press Play

Let’s rewind before we hit that play button. I failed myself and took on a new adventure before I was ready to fully immerse myself. I thought that blogging would help me get through the pain; it did the opposite. I couldn’t bear staring at a blinking cursor waiting for me to stop crying and start typing. About a month after I got the blog up and running, I hit rock bottom and had to make some tough decisions. Decisions that would make me selfish for one of the first times in my life. Decisions that were abrupt and last minute. I was going to put myself first and say, “No.” This isn’t something that I do often; in fact, I need to say no more often. Shit, it felt great to say, “No.” It took that big ol fat elephant of stress and pain right off my shoulders for a moment's time. In my 17 years of teaching (child care centers, private and public schools), I took the summer off. No extended school year for me. No emails. No IEPs. No tracking data for goals. No trainings. No meetings. I think you get it. A full summer to focus on me; something that gets pushed aside during the remainder 9 months out of the year. I am the only one who can take care of me. Well, and my husband. As he is the one who put his hands on my shoulders while I was having an emotional breakdown in our kitchen and said, “I need you to slow down.”

I need you to slow down. Six words was all it took. I heard those words, took a deep breath and said, “Okay.” The decision was made and I was not going backwards. No was my answer to teaching extended school year this summer.

Fast forward and hit play.

The pain I feel and struggle with resides in my infertility. My inability to “naturally” get impregnated by my husband. His swimmers are great; in fact, his “samples” as they are referred to, impress the nurses and techs each time. What a fucking winner of a hubby I have, am I right? Now, if only my damn body could have fantastic freaking results, we would be golden. But my body does not and will not. We have been trying to conceive for 5 years now. 3 years naturally and 2 years with the help of fertility treatment and doctors at Invia Fertility. I have hypothyroidism, hyper-function of the pituitary gland, and a diminished ovarian reserve…I basically have very few eggs left in my ovaries. In addition, I suffer from ovarian cysts, polyps and scar tissue in the uterus…all of which are unexplained. We put infertility treatment on hold from August 2020 to about September 2021 as we were planning our wedding, but never stopped practicing our horizontal tango. Still, no wins in what felt like non-stop “practicing.” I have become obsessed with tracking everything on an app; I track when my Aunt Flow is in town, every symptom I experience, every vitamin and hormonal medicine I take. I track when my husband and I have sex; I track when I am ovulating; I track doctor visits that include blood draws and ultrasounds; I. Track. Everything. Where are my mistakes? Why can’t I get pregnant? Am I too obsessed and anxious?

Cue November/December 2021 after finagling with insurance and finances, we began our first round of IUI ( Intrauterine insemination), a type of artificial insemination; basically, doctors take my hubby’s swimmers, give them a good ol’ nice bath, and then shoot them up my lady bits using a catheter and specimen that isn’t that pleasant; not terrible, but uncomfortable. Okay, that sounds simple and stress free. Ha, Not! Before that can even be done, I have to go in for monitoring once Aunt Flow takes residence in my uterus. Blood draws, ultrasounds, saline infused sonohysterograms, hysteroscopies, Clomid, and Pregnyl shots are all done before an IUI procedure. On December 19, 2021 my body was finally ready for my first IUI. I then had to wait the longest, most anxious 2 weeks before I knew if we were pregnant. Thank the lords it was winter break and I could veg out on the couch with my pup, sleep away the worries, and well, track everything; did you think I wouldn’t?

Hit Fast Forward for a smidgen.

January 3, 2022 was the day. The day I would have my first HCG Beta blood draw to determine if I was or was not pregnant. It was also the first day back to school with my little cherubs. UGH, how was I going to make it through the day waiting on results with having to get my students back in shape after being home for 2 weeks?!? Well, I didn’t. Of course I had to check the results (the hubs said to go ahead without him; he knows how impatient I am). The results were in…I had a positive result and would need to go back in two days to ensure levels were still on the rise. Two days later it was verified that my egg was seasoned with love and was cooking. I would return to the office once a week, for yes, more monitoring that included any blood work and ultrasounds to ensure levels were rising and stable and that my sac and embryo were growing. By week 4, I was measuring behind a week which is not uncommon as it is medically impossible to know if my egg was fertilized “naturally” or from the IUI. I went for one of the most important and memorable ultrasounds a couple weeks later…the ultrasound where a heartbeat is heard. Covid policies did not allow for my husband to be with me. I cried and cried, but no amount of tears would change that stupid policy at that time. No heartbeat was detected, but everything was still growing. “Come back next week. We are hopeful,” is what I was told. I went back and it was confirmed that I had a blighted ovum. Everything but my “baby” was growing. I would have to either wait in agony and pain, both physically and mentally until all passed through my body or induce a miscarriage. It was heartbreaking and a lot of other things that I cannot express in words. All the excitement in my world ended. All the hope vanished. All my faith became confused. I spent my days smiling and my evenings sitting in a puddle of tears.

After a few weeks, my sense of hope came back and we were ready to continue. My body, however, was not ready again until June 6th. My induced miscarriage was February 12th. We did not have success with our second round of IUI and began our third round right away with my next cycle; my body kept itself in check. This time we upped the dosage of meds; my husband jokes each time that we are giving those eggs some steroids. He always tries to make light of the situation and has been extremely positive and supportive, but seriously. I hate how I feel with all of these hormones and extra vitamins and needle pricks and ultrasounds and well, everything. Why can’t I just have a shit ton of kids like the moms around me? And now, I am left to wait, again, to either be delighted that I am pregnant or fucking pissed at life that I am not pregnant. My HCG Beta test is this Wednesday. I am anxious, optimistic, yet reserved about this blood draw. I’ve felt some symptoms as I did the first round of IUI, but am not experiencing any “early signs” of pregnancy. I know I need to stop worrying and put it in the hands of my faith, but it is easier said than done. I belong to a couple support groups and it is helpful, but at the same time it makes me want to pull my hair out and scream.

My husband and I will not give up; we are fighters; we are strong; we are courageous. My body is indestructible and will not be defeated.