SHOT Through the Heart

Or more specifically, shot through the lower belly vicinity, on BOTH sides, multiple times, everyday.

I'd just like to let you know I've been taking my injections (to stimulate egg production) like. a. CHAMMMMMMP. Last week's appointment went extremely well. We are on target as far as the cycle goes. I started my shots over the weekend. We have one more day of these two drugs before I go back for my second ultrasound this Wednesday. I did have a major melt-down freak-out over the all the medicines I received Friday afternoon, but I called the doctor and he talked me down from the ledge. We are looking at taking the eggs early next week, fingers crossed. 

I'm keeping it short and sweet tonight because I'm riding the high from Mike and I being the ultimate tag-team at mixing insanely expensive fertility drugs and injecting them into my belly. If this whole process doesn't work, I might get depressed and eat myself into a sugar coma. At least I know I'd make a badass diabetic.

I'm sharing our "Let's Make a Baby" themed Meth Lab photo below to give you an idea of the stress I've been feeling the last few days.  

**Disclaimer: After posting this I googled, "meth lab" because let's be honest, the closest I've ever come to one is binge watching Breaking Bad. Not sure what I had in mind when I pictured a meth lab, but I'm disappointed in myself as a science teacher that I wasn't even close. It still sounds super cool though, so I'm not changing my comparison.

Queen V

I can not begin to tell you about the power of conversation regarding something you're passionate about and how it can completely make your mood do a complete 180. Wait, yes I can. Pretty sure telling you stuff is the sole purpose of this blog in the first place.

 

I've been an utter, no nonsense, total Debbie Downer the last three weeks. Today is Day Twelve of my first cycle of IVF. DAY TWELVE!!! Technically, this is IVF Cycle 1.5, considering the first round was cancelled due to my doctors' impending Hawaiian vacation.
 

Last month, I was literally counting down the hours to when my period would start so I could begin round one. Then it got cancelled; something that FOR FREAKING ONCE was NOT my fault. No matter that I've been let down in so many ways years before while trying to conceive, that one cycle post-poned side-swiped me and threw me down into a rut that surprisingly, I'm just able to start climbing out of.

 

I've been on THE pill for almost two weeks now. Birth control used to be my BFF. We'd do everything together. It kept my skin clear, kept me kid-free when I ultimately did NOT need a kid, and it kept my body working like a well-oiled machine. Now, apparently, I did something to straight up piss my BFF off. I guess when I cut all ties with it 3 years ago, it got angry and decided to be vindictive. Hours after taking that first pill twelve days ago, I became nauseous. And. It. Hasn't. STOPPED. Because of this, I've basically become the green Hungry-Hungry Hippo. Having a full stomach seems to settle my spinning head, but it's also making the hard work of my last seven months of diet and exercise go down the drain. Did I mention the gigantic zit that has taken residence on my chin? Pretty sure it's given birth to triplets over the past week. God must think he's pretty hilarious because even my pimples are having babies while I'm not.

 

Lastly, if you haven't picked up on it yet, the most documented side-effect of this particular medicine is irritability and mild depression. Somebody nailed THAT on the head.

 

Needless to say, things have not been the best the last two weeks. I go to my doctor for my first ultrasound this cycle on Tuesday. Normally I'd be chomping at the bit to get there, but I'm secretly dreading it at this point. I just feel like I'm going to get there and he's going to see that my eggs have already developed and they missed it, or something equally devastating that will inevitably post-pone our efforts for another month.

Where is this coming from? Since the first miscarriage (which will be 3 years ago this Thursday) I've always been the annoyingly positive one. I've always had the most hope in becoming successful. Lately, I've even caught myself saying, "IF I have a baby" instead of my usual "WHEN I have a baby". I keep thinking that yes, IVF can get me pregnant, but it's not for certain that I'll be able to keep it. Most women freak out in utter joy when they get a positive test at the end of their cycle and sadly, I won't be able to because I know there's a ridiculously high percentage that even if it works for me, I may not be able to go full term. I'm very frustrated with myself. I'm not a fan of the Pissy-Krissy I've become.

 

Then today I had two conversations that have seriously boosted my spirits. Both were with women facing infertility just like me. I blog for two reasons: to vent and to open my door to other women who are going through similar situations. It had been awhile for me to actually talk freely about my feelings of insecurity and bitterness and downright frustration with others who know EXACTLY how I feel, I forgot for a minute that I'm not alone in this boat. I finally have woken myself back up and realized, you are human and it's more than okay to visit the crap-fest that is infertility...as long as you don't buy real estate there.

 

Both ladies that I spent time chatting with today pointed out something. I've been through it all. I've faced all the testing, gone through all the options, been through four losses. I'm still here. I'm still fighting. I'm. Still. HERE! For years now, I've been in wars with my body and wars with my emotions. I'm basically the queen of this all. (Okay, so neither girl said I was a queen, but let's just go with it. And the Queen of...what...exactly? Queen of Miscarriages? Queen of Non-Existent Tubes? Probably should have thought that out before I mentioned it...)

 

Either way, you get knocked down and you linger there for awhile. Then you get back up. And that's just what I'm going to do, no matter what happens this cycle. Let's be real. I'm The Queen Bee. Or I guess technically and more appropriately, I'm The Queen "V". Clearly, that's the vicinity where all these problems started in the first place.

Dangle the Carrot

Let's be real for a second. The title of this post is so inaccurate, because really, if you are anyone BUT Bugs Bunny, nobody wants a carrot for enticement. This is me we're talking about. Read on to continue under the new, moderately appropriately named title for tonight's brief story...

 

Dangle the Chocolate-Covered-Anything

 

Yesterday was Day One, Round One of my very first IVF cycle!!!!!!!! HOLLA!

 

Today is Negative Day One, Round One, though. No cycle.

 

No kidding.

 

I checked in with my doctor this morning to confirm the start day and to begin my pill regimen, only to be taken back a notch when he called me at the very end of the day to tell me we have to post-pone to next month. Wait. WHAT?!?!?!?!

 

I've been patiently waiting since JUNE for yesterday to get here. Basically, I've been waiting three YEEEAAARRRSSSS for yesterday to get here. I couldn't have been more ready for my period to start. I think I might have even burst into song when I wiped red yesterday.

 

Apparently, the embryologists that are in charge of monitoring my egg fertilization between retrieval and transfer are going to be in a conference about furthering their education on SITTING IN A CHAIR WATCHING FREAKING EGGS AND SPERM MATE IN A DISH. I mean, REALLY!

 

However, said conference is in Honolulu. In October. In Hawaii. Paradise. (For those who weren't clear about that location. I'm pretty sure tomorrow's lesson is going to go something like this:

 

**Pulls up Google Maps with aerial views of the big island on the Promethean board.**

 

"Students, direct your attention to the paradise on the screen. This is the state of Hawaii. The capital city of Hawaii is Honolulu, where, this upcoming October, several multi-millionaire embryologists from VA IVF will be "conferencing"...HA. PUHLEASE. VOMIT...while I am here, with you, with my eggs fully fertilized and anxiously awaiting to be yanked out, by the same embryologists who will probably be laying on this section of Wakiki beach."

 

**Aggressively, angrily points to the coastline**

 

I hope they sunburn. And get sand fleas. And severely underestimate the island cost of living and run out of money on day four and have to come home prematurely.

 

SIKE. Who am I kidding? If that opportunity arose for me, I'd already be at the airport (a month early) in a fake floral lei and a grass skirt sippin' on a mai tai with a Dole Plantation Pineapple straight from the Hawaiian heartland to set the mood. It just royally bites the big one that men can't schedule worth a damn. You KNOW they knew about this trip. Why couldn't they have helped a sistah out and let her know??

 

My doctor thought I was joking when I told him after he apologized profusely that the only way they could make it up to me was to take Mike and I with them. I mean, you promise me a kid, (dangle the carrot), then tell me I have to wait ANOTHER month for it. He was like, "You're so young still, you're healthy, this is going to work. It's not like your ovaries are deteriorating"....This is where I'm like, "HOLD ON, BRO-THA! My tubes already DID deteriorate, let's not even PLAY about anything else doing the same". He was chuckling at my suggestion to take us while I wasn't saying a word. He heard crickets. I heard the roar of anger in my ears.

 

I could have gotten really attitudal with him, but I kept myself in check. My throat was doing that clogged-up weird thing right before you cry, so I really missed what he was saying the last thirty seconds of our conversation. It was a bunch of his "I've worked this a thousand different times, but I just can't get the timing to work on our side. I'm so sorry" along with a bunch of my "uh-huhs".

 

So we have been let down. AGAIN. So we are waiting. AGAIN. It's no use in even being upset at this point because finally, this time wasn't my fault.! It just wasn't meant to be. I'm all about signs, as you know, and having this procedure done in the same month exactly three years after my first miscarriage is pretty meaningful.

 

It's just a month. It's just a month. We've waited this long to get the show on the road so what's another few weeks. Except, saying that out loud is much easier to do than actually meaning it. The yarn has been extended and the carrot is out of reach for a little bit longer. I'll keep my tunnel vision on, because thank God, THANK GOD! at least we are still working in the produce section.  

Meanwhile, Out in Leftfield

For someone who is embarrassingly uncomfortable with numbers, they seem to be taking me over the last few weeks. Since school has started and I'm back to work, my alarm goes off and I start calculating in my head how much longer I can just lay there until I reach the top level of lateness. Oh yes. Different days warrant different levels of untimeliness. Level One is rolling in a minute or two past the time I'm actually supposed to be there. Level Two is "I'm in the parking lot texting somebody in the building to come let me in the back door". Level Three is "screw it, I'd rather arrive late than to arrive ugly", which can range from anywhere between the five and ten minute late mark. Level three days are the ones I feel like I look the best, but it took hell and high water to get there.

 

This isn't something new for me. As an adolescent, I was peer-pressured into playing softball. Instead of embracing my fiercely competitive side at every game, I basically stood on the field or in the dugout and stared at the countdown clock on the scoreboard. This anticipation had less to do with the heat of summertime and my wishing to be back at the pool I was dragged from to go put on the over-sized man t-shirts the league provided...and way more to do with the free hotdogs that all players got at the end of games. I mean, there would be girls (my teammates) actually CR-YING because we'd lost and I'd be all, "yeah we lost by ten and I'd like mustard and ketchup on my dog, and for God's sake, don't be scared to get a little crazy with the ketchup." I always seemed to make my best plays at the end of the game because I knew if I just did what needed to be done to bring in the runners or what play I needed to get the out, the sooner I'd be done with it. And the sooner I'd get a free hotdog.

 

In eleventh grade, I took my first SOL writing test. I think back then it was like the preliminary, trial tests, so the scores didn't actually count for anything. But I clearly remember sitting in the library configuring down to the minute how much time I had left. Apparently it was timed? (I'm not sure about any of this. I may even be making it up. Anything is possible.) The topic was something along the lines of "Write about a time that is meaningful to you. It can be funny or sad." I sat in the library for like, three hours making up some story about losing a loved one because I didn't have any background experience at the time with the topic. I thought a sad story would make the scorers feel sympathetic.

 

With forty-five minutes left to go, I changed my mind and started rewriting a story about the time I'd gone deep-sea fishing the summer before. I kept getting my line hung up with the other lines from the opposite side of the boat and people were losing their cool with me because of it...and tossin' their cookies all at the same time from seasickness. It. Was. Hilarious. I remember using post-it notes to figure out how much time I had left before they made me stop writing. <----This took probably ten minutes of actual writing time. I finished with a few minutes left to spare. I feel like I'm about to lie to you, but I'm pretty sure when the scores came back, I had a 600, which was the highest you could get. If somebody wants to go pull my permanent record from Central to verify, please do. Just don't post it publically if I didn't get a 600, because really, that would just ruin the "feel" of this story. Don't rain on my parade here.

 

Anyway! All that writing and changing and calculating was the first real time I remember thinking, "I'm one of those people who works best under pressure". I was so proud of myself with that score. To this day, I've been counting and calculating.

 

I start my first round of IVF in approximately two weeks. TWO! WEEKS! Ohemgee. When I get my period, which is supposed to happen around September 15th, it all begins. This means I have two weeks to finally start thinking about it! Since the removal of my plumbing, I've just been pushing it off and calculating the anticipated cycle dates. I've been drowning in paperwork from school. I've been signing up to do the most random nonsense. Anything to keep my mind from focusing on what's getting ready to happen. This is our only shot at making a kid. THE ONLY SHOT! You know, no pressure or anything.

 

The statistics show that two teenagers having unprotected sex have about a 20% chance at getting pregnant in a month. The statistics (as of June 2014) show that couples starting their first round of IVF have about a 50% chance of getting pregnant (and having a live birth). Um, 50%? I'll take that. I'm not so much concerned about getting pregnant as I am about keeping it. So while most women are joyous that they conceive with the first round(usually because they've never gotten a positive test before), I'll be joyous if we make it two weeks past a positive test. Which means that yes, you will probably know the timing of when I should find out if I'm pregnant or not...but my lips will be sealed far past the normal waiting period.

 

Since June, both Mike and I have been cracking down on ourselves to make this time the very best opportunity to stay pregnant. I want to go into this cycle with NO outside factors to cause a pregnancy not to work. If you cut my arm right now, I'd bleed straight folic acid. I've been My Fitness Pal'ing since April and I'm two pounds away from the goal weight my doctor set for me before my first cycle. Faulty tubes are no longer in the way. We've both been taking a high-powered antibiotic so we will surely have the cleanest, purest sperm and eggs anybody has ever seen, dammit! We are ridiculously healthy. The odds are ever in our favor...

 

And so the countdown begins. I'll calculate days and injections and pills. I'll keep my eyes on the scoreboard while my doctors keep their eyes on the many ultrasounds that are in my very near future. After all, I tend to do my best under the pressure of a timeline. But this time, hopefully we'll get a baby. Or if not, somebody at least better give me a free hotdog. 

Boo, hiss!

I really need to address something that has been grinding my gears for the past few weeks. It's gonna sound like I'm being bitchy and on my soap-box, but y'all should know me by now that I don't mean to offend anyone, I just have strong opinions. And they are just that; MY opinions. My opinion also goes into overdrive if that particular opinion is something close to me. Which this just happens to be. So, forgive me for stepping up on my bitchy soap-box for a minute.

 

Starting the IVF process is something that I never, in a million years, thought I would be going through. We may think we are choosing our own directions in life, but I'm a walking, talking advertisement for the case that never goes according to plan. No woman ever wants to go through any sort of infertility journey, whether it's a result of recurrent miscarriages, physical defects, or just can't conceive. It's not something we expected nor it is something that all women can understand unless you've been a victim of it. 

 

I have heard just about all I want to hear from naysayers about couples who go through IVF to have a baby. Speaking as one half of one of those couples, I want to be very specific about something: we do not CHOOSE to have IVF. It is the only option that is available in order to have a child.

 

I don't think people realize that for most couples, it's not a decision. It's the only way. I'm not sure where the misconception has come from that IVF is a "bad" or "unnatural" thing. Are you kidding me? IVF is the saving grace for people like me. There are some that stubbornly declare that "IVF is never going to be an option" or "I'd rather have no children than a test-tube baby"...um, they work in Petri dishes, people. Get your facts straight. Then the people who like to say "that's a lot of money to pay for a baby". Well, you pay about that much for a brand new car, so, let's not get carried away. I'm not "paying for my baby". I'm paying specifically to have my husband's sperm put with my ovaries outside of my body then reinserted with a needle through my vagina and cervix and into my uterus.

 

I must say that none of these comments were made to me and that most people have been positive and supportive of us since day one. But I do hear and read these comments from people (who don't know I'm going through it) and it just rubs me the wrong way. Like if it were your first day on the job and you walked into a water cooler conversation about the horror of wearing brown socks and black shoes...and inwardly cringe at the fact that if you lifted your trousers, said water-cooler socialites would see your brown-on-black monstrosity.

 

It hurts your feelings to know people are talking junk about your decision. Your instinct is to defend it, right? Like, 'all your other socks were in the laundry'. Or, 'your dog took one black sock and hid it UNDER (in the middle of) your king-sized bed and you didn't have time to get the broom from God-knows where the broom is because really, who sweeps their house? (Other than Cinderella. And let's face it, she was a freaking over-achiever'.) There. Defended. 

 

IVF is 100% allllll Kristin and 100% alllll Mike. We're just a little unconventional about the way we get the product 'home'. Who wouldn't try it? God wouldn't have made doctors who are smart enough to come up with this stuff if he didn't want people to have kids this way. I could understand it more if couples already had a child and didn't want to try for another one through IVF. But this is our attempt to get ONE child. Just one. The way we get a baby shouldn't be a secret. I'm not proud that I had faulty pipes, but I'm proud of the way we didn't let that set-back get in the way from us to continue to try.

 

There are tons of girls out there who are going through the same things that I went through and will continue to go through to get what they ultimately want. It's human nature to keep fighting for something that's been just out of your reach. No matter what route you take to get there, eventually, you'll grab it. IVF just happens to be my route and I wish there weren't so many party-poopers about it. There. I'm done.

 

I have one more cycle to go through before Round 1 begins. The past two months have flown by and I can't believe this will all be really happening, really soon. Many people have asked and believe me, if I hadn't had to go through it first-hand, I wouldn't have had the first clue about it. I'll try to give you the Reader's Digest version of what is going to happen with the first round.

 

1. When I get my period, I'll begin taking birth control pills. Insane, right? The pill will stop egg production.

 

2. After approximately two weeks on the pill, I'll stop it. Insane, right? I'll start injections (Yes. With needles. Into my stomach. OHEMGHEE.) The injections are basically medicines to make my ovaries stimulated--which causes lots of eggs to be produced.

 

3. I'll be monitored by blood tests and ultrasounds to determine egg maturity.

 

4. After my eggs have matured, I'll go in and have them taken out. (The eggs.) They take as many as they can get. They'll mix them with Mike's specimen and wait for fertilization.

 

5. I'll be monitored and when the time is right, the fertilized embryos will be directly inserted into my uterus.

 

6. We wait two weeks and hope for implantation. I'll take a pregnancy test to see if we were successful.

 

6 1/2. Since I've taken and gotten a positive pregnancy test four times before, I'll be on pins and needles to make it past the six week mark. This will be the true indicator that my problem was fixed and I can stay pregnant.

 

7. If it doesn't take, we'll wait a few months and restart.

 

This sounds really simple when I put it like this, but in fact, it's a seriously crazy process that is dependent on time and closely monitored hormone levels, blood work, faith, and a little bit of science. It will truly be an experience and take much effort from a number of people.

 

(And I mean the people who are up to bat for making this work. Not the people who say mean things about it whose eye lashes I'd like to pluck off and burn inside a test tube. I mean, a petri dish.)

You've Got To Be IVF'n Kiddin' Me

This is my first official week of summer where I have absolutely noth-ing to do. No doctor appointments, no summer school, no jury duty, nothing. It's Monday afternoon and I'm officially going a little bonkers. You just can't give a girl who has a brain that is constantly doing something a whole week off with nothing to even think about. It's torture.

 

I've been cleared from my regular ob-gyn (aka his rap name, "Dr. Tube Tay-Kah") and am officially on my very first period without two vital parts of the female reproductive system! Yay for a working uterus! I go back in August to the fertility doctor so they can start the first round of meds with my cycle (kinda like a test-run before the real deal). I'll have my first (and hopefully, prayerfully, only one!) round of IVF in September.

 

For those of you who are wondering, IVF stands for In Vitro Fertilization. In a nutshell, although the entire procedure would be better related to, "in a watermelon", very smart, geeky science guys will take out as many fertilized eggs that I can produce in a month and combine them with a sampling of Mike's finest sperm. Once fertilized, they'll take 1 or 2 and insert them directly into my uterus to hopefully implant and make a baby. Holla. This could work the first round, or it might not work at all. It's a crazy intense process that is only beginning, but it is one that is almost guaranteed. So why not?! Not like I haven't been through a crazy intense process the last few years. Might as well keep going.

 

Never in a million years when I started writing this blog would I have thought this was a route I'd be taking. I feel like it's taken three years to figure out my system, have the problem solved, and find a solution. I've watched other people who are and have gone through fertility issues along with me get pregnant and have babies, some even on second and third children. I've written for three years about recurrent miscarriage and I've often talked about how I get strength from the stories of others. While I feel like we are definitely on the road to a solution, I can't help but think of those women like me who will never find a problem and who will more than likely have even more miscarriages. It might make me weird, but I thank God every single morning for letting me have a problem that could be worked around, for I know there are women who will always wonder.

 

Many of my followers are going through situations like mine and I can't help but give y'all a shout out. There is always a little bit something good to come out of a little bit something bad. I refuse to tell you "it will all be alright" or "just hang in there" because that's advice I never wanted to hear myself. Even if you aren't religious, you have to keep a positive outlook or you'll be miserable. You have to believe "this WILL happen" even if there are days when you truly feel like it won't.

 

And who the heck am I kidding? I may go through 100 rounds of IVF and never get anything either. But I never thought I'd even have another option and look where I am now. It's most frustrating to me when others around me who've gone through their own issues gain success. That sounded REALLY mean. I didn't mean it that way--I swear! It's just like, they get their happy ending, when's mine? I feel like I'm already celebrating over the fact that IVF is a good possibility for us. I feel like I've gotten one step closer to "baby" while there are so many others out there who are sort of stuck in the same place. I ask those who are still going through tough situation to hang in there with me...you never know what possibilities are out there!

 

Okay, no more baby-talk for now. I love, love, love, going to conferences and meetings that I get paid extra for. Like, y'all will feed me, pay me, and all I have to do is just sit there an listen? YES, PLEASE. Even better, most of the time they will send you to these things with your co-workers that are your BFFs.

 

But sometimes, they won't. And you're the only one you know going. Which means you'll have to awkwardly look around and try to judge the person you're gonna sit beside for the next six hours and pray, just pray, that they are 1. Not annoying and 2. Not a vegetarian who will judge every morsel of the probably-high-caloric catered food that is surely for lunch.

 

You walk into the over-priced banquet room. In the front of the room, you look and see a large screen. Yes! This means a PowerPoint, which means they'll have it printed out, which means I can mark each slide off and know how much longer we have, and also, doodle paper. Always avoid the front, because 9 times outta 10, the speakers will try to interact with you at some point. They also like to pick on the people in the very back because they think "Oh they've avoided the front so they wouldn't have to do much! Hahaha, I'll show them". That means, it's best to sit in the middle, preferably close to a side wall.

 

Most of the people in the room are probably teachers. But there could be administrators. You can point them out because they are usually dressed the nicest and like they are going to a funeral. Avoid sitting with them. (Let me add, I'm not speaking of my admin. They know ((OH THEY KNOW!)) if I walk in a room and they are in there, I'm sitting with them.) Anyway, you never know when you might have to switch counties for some reason or another and you don't want to walk into an interview with said admin only to have them remember, "Oh shit, this is that really inappropriate girl from that conference that one time".

 

After identifying the higher-ups, you should be able to easily break down the other groups and decide where you will best fit for the day. There's always a group of men, probably history  or PE teachers, who will talk your ears off about stuff you'll never understand. Avoid. There's probably a younger group of teachers who are fresh outta college and will drive you crazy because they've set up their areas with Mac notebooks, pens, highlighters, etc. like we're getting ready to find out the answers to the SATs. They'll also be the annoying "ask questions" group which only draws attention to your table and further makes the speakers think, "Oh they're really interested, let's eat with them at lunch". Avoid.

 

This usually leaves two groups that you have to be extremely careful over picking. Group 1 will be your "mature" group. Group 2 will be your "I've got 1 year left before retirement" group. They may look the same, but my friends, they are not. Group 1 is the "I know it all and I will try my hardest to convince you of that, all while saying things that don't make sense". Group 2 is the "I've been here the longest, I've done it all, this stuff you're presenting won't work, but I'm glad you think so, what's for lunch?" <--- This group, y'all, is the group you want to be with. You'll learn the most from listening to them, they are probably hilarious, and they share similar interests (that being, lunch and snacks). Also, they'll think you're super cool because you have all the answers to the "group work" that's been assigned. (Only because you're smart enough to look ahead in the PowerPoint packet for the answers that are surely already done for you).

 

I hope these tips have been most helpful to you if you find yourself in a summer meeting/conference. I have several more coming up so if you see me walk in the room, I hope there are no hard feelings if I don't sit at your table. It's not you, it's probably your "group".

Exit Ramp CLOSED

It would appear I've left you in limbo since my last post. Usually when I leave you hanging, it's for a good reason. I can't think of a better reason than what I'm getting ready to share with you!

 

First, a quick recap: our last miscarriage was October 2013. I decided to get away from all my doctors, charts, temperatures, etc. As ignorant as it might have seemed, I wanted to do it all on my own.

 

On June 5th, I had no choice but to call my fertility doctor because my folic acid supplement was about to run out. I figured by talking to his nurse, I could avoid him and she could just call in the prescription for me. Of course by now I should have known that nothing works the way I plan it. Dr. Edelstein ended up calling me the next day and talked me into coming to see him to chat about "options".

 

On June 10th, Mike and I went in and learned that my "Dream Team" of gynecologists had discussed my case and very much agreed that I had something going on with my fallopian tubes. We knew my last pregnancy was in my right tube and the three others never made it to where it was supposed to go.

 

We stayed at his office for about two hours and came up with our game plan. Step One in Mission: "Might Be Possible" was to visit with my original Ob-gyn, Dr. Gospodnetic to see about going in (literally) to check out my potentially faulty plumbing.

 

On June 16th (this past Monday), Mike and I went in and I had an ultrasound on my lady bits. The outcome was less than stellar. I definitely needed surgery and my tubes definitely needed to come out. After another two hour appointment, my salpingectomy was scheduled for Wednesday.

 

Today is Friday. I'm at home in bed (and I may or may not be on a high from my new best friend, Percocet. I'm actually considering naming my first born "Percocet" since she's been such a good friend to me). I'm also lacking two very damaged fallopian tubes that pretty much caused us to have all our miscarriages in the first place. Three years of going through...whatever you want to call it, only to have the cause for it all solved in less than two weeks. Keep in mind that I had all my parts checked out after my first MC. My tubes were in okay condition then, but each miscarriage caused serious wear and tear.

 

If you're like me and spent all your classroom hours of Family Life passing notes back and forth to your friends and NOT paying attention, you missed some pretty solid, simple facts about the female reproductive system. Let me help you out. The only things you need to have a baby are: eggs, sperm, and a healthy uterus. Check, check, and CHECK!

 

Most women have 2 ovaries that contain the eggs that are produced during a girl's cycle. When a boy and a girl have unprotected sex, his sperm heads straight to the ovaries so an egg can be fertilized. Said fertilized egg then exits off the ramp and travels through the tubes until it reaches the uterus and grows.

 

My left tube was almost completely deteriorated. My right tube was severely damaged and right ovary had many lesions (probably from scar tissue from my old ovarian cyst). With that type of damaged piping, it was apparent that I could get pregnant easily, it was just impossible for the fertilized egg to get where it needed to go.

Having my tubes removed was a no-brainer for us. Why risk another pregnancy when obviously we knew the outcome wouldn't be a good one? I teach alllll types of children, yet it is my job to get them to pass the SAME test at the end of the year. Some children learn different ways, but what they come to know at the end of the year is the same. I can still have a child; I just have to take a different route than what most normal women take! At this point in my life, this shouldn't surprise me. "Different" should be monogrammed on all my clothes.

 

I'm still in shock over learning that my miscarriages actually could be solved. Months of having no answers from anyone and here I sit typing, recovering from having my body corrected. Ironically, this week would've marked our first child's second birthday had my first miscarriage never happened. To have my body "fixed" this same week, well, if that ain't something, I don't know what is!! So here's to all the construction workers  and support people who've repaved our roads to having a kid. This road has been ridiculously bumpy and we still have many miles to go, but one thing is for sure: I can rock a neon orange DOT vest until all the bumps have been smoothed out. After all, the exit ramp might be permanently closed 'round here, but there's always a detour to getting where you want to go.