#MicroblogMondays: Vacation Hangover

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We made it back.  Left Delaware at 9:45 Saturday morning and went to Baltimore for the Scout shop and a crab house before heading to North Carolina.  Got to hotel in High Point at 2 AM, thanks to the hell that is I-95 between DC and Richmond.  I should've gone with my instincts and taken 301.  Made it home at 10:45 last night after dropping the oldest at Scout camp in NC and getting semi-lost in the Pisgah National Forest.  Happy to have gotten crabs and happy to have found a random swimming hole in the middle of the forest.

#Microblog Mondays: At The Beach

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At the beach with my stepfamily, the best week of every year!  The water was warm today (considering that it's Delaware) and Papa Bear got one of the kids over a massive fear of the ocean. I'm also loving seeing my son getting to meet and play with two other cousins his age.  He sure looks like them, for someone who shares no genes!  The only hard part has been the knowledge that my second baby should have been here being passed around and trying to catch up with the youngest cousin, who is crawling.

The other baby in the top picture has the same first name as my son and is one month older.  The one in the bottom pic is 5 months younger.  My aunt got my son and the other one in the bottom pic mixed up last night!

Answers and Questions

Well, I don't have fibroids, at least.  I hadn't been sure how to feel at first, because at least it would have been an answer, but Papa Bear had pointed out the possible complications from fibroids and I felt better about not having them.  That still leaves no real answers about the extent of my current...experience, though, because it's symptoms beyond what is expected with endo.  Best guess is hormone changes, but apparently there's not really much of any research on hormones in people who lose an ovary.

The answer about the fibroids was mostly washed away by the whole nightmare experience of the ultrasound, though.  The last time I was lying on that table, I was being told that my baby no longer had a heartbeat.  To make it worse, it was the same tech, and she didn't remember that fact until Papa Bear reminded her.  She didn't even see in my chart about what happened last year, so she was asking me about why I didn't have a right ovary.  At least the doctor said they have 2 ultrasound techs at this point, so if I get that far, I can ask for the other one.

Since I don't have fibroids, getting that far now looks to rest on Clomid.  The doctor still wants me to get an HSG to make sure my remaining tube is clear, and it looks like we'll be doing that in September.  Provided it's clear (or gets clear from the dye going through), we'll start Clomid after that.  One thing we're not sure of is how much of a real LH surge I'm having to even trigger ovulation, since last month I had the line on the OPK get darker than it had been but not darker than the control line.  But the doctor said if that's what's wrong, Clomid will help.

He did also say that Clomid tends to make people feel cranky and have less energy.  For those who have tried it, what has your experience been?

Now What?

I was stupid.  I thought maybe I was having symptoms of implantation.  I should have known better.  Instead, today I got CD1, a good 5 days early.  I guess the one thing I can do right is not have it interfere with being at the beach next week?

The complicating factor aside from hating myself for letting myself hope is that tomorrow is my ultrasound to see if there are any fibroids causing problems.  Supposedly the ultrasound can be done at any time during the cycle, but when I called the office today, they said that it would be better if it wasn't a heavy flow.  She also said that if I had to reschedule, it would be several weeks before there would be another opening (because of the need for the doctor and the ultrasound tech to be there on the same day).  Hopefully it will be light enough by then?  I want to get some damned answers finally!!!

#MicroblogMondays: HSG Expenses

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Today, I called around to find out how much we need to budget for an HSG.  The good news is that because we have a diagnosis that can be tested and treated by an HSG, it is covered by insurance; the bad news is that we have a high enough deductible that we still have to pay for it out of pocket.  I first called the hospital system that was close to me and got a quote of $900 (though they later called back and said it was actually $1200).  I was starting to panic, thinking we would have to wait till next year, when I got a call back from the main fertility clinic on this side of town, which does them in house.  Self-pay cost of $621 and cost for my insurance plan of about $350.  MUCH BETTER!!!!!  I told Papa Bear, and he told me that he had been looking at forums about costs but hadn't told me because he was seeing multiple posts about costs over $3000.  I'm glad he didn't tell me that until I had an actual answer, but I'm also very glad to be married to someone who wants this enough for himself as well as for me that he goes on infertility forums to do his own research.  (Heck, it still amazes me that he figured out I probably had endometriosis multiple years before doctors took the concern seriously or diagnosed me)

I hate feeling so worthless as I stand still, accomplishing nothing, while everyone I know who had a loss at the same time as me or after gets pregnant except for the one person who is now single.  I want them to have their miracles, but it highlights how I'm just going nowhere.

Triggered

This post basically is one big trigger warning, so do with that as you will.

Wednesday was a weird day because it was the anniversary of the surgery and it was the last day of me seeing clients at one agency, so I was saying goodbye to them.  I mostly spent the day running around like a headless chicken trying to get everything done.  On the way home after my last client, though, I started falling apart in the car.

I texted one of my cousins who has also experienced loss, and that helped.  I was physically feeling like crap, but I also had a meeting that evening that I needed to drag myself to, and that was another distraction.  When I got home from the meeting, though, I was still feeling awful and I lay down with a book.  I love fantasy, and I love being able to escape into another world.  My husband suggested going to bed after all the kids did, but I wanted to read for a few more minutes.

Then I picked up my phone and flipped through Facebook.  Big mistake.  Wednesday was the day that alligator took that little boy in Orlando.  That little boy that's the same age as my son.  There's a post going around by Melissa Fenton or something like that that one of my friends had posted.  DON'T READ IT!!!  Not unless you can handle your heart breaking into a million pieces.

When it was talking about cases from the past, it was okay.  When it started talking about the boy in Orlando, in graphic detail of that family's experience of the loss, that's when it got to be too much to take.  I started shaking and crying.  I wanted to blog about it, but I couldn't.  I was up for another hour because I couldn't face the thought of going to bed and I needed to escape into another world again.  I'm tearing up again now just writing this.

I'm sure part of it was the timing and the day I read it, but it would have still ripped me apart at any time because the baby was the age my son is and that'll be the case any day of the year.  Any time I look at Facebook on my phone or the computer, I'm actually scared and tentative now, looking to make sure that I'm not seeing the beginning of that article again, clicking away fast if I do.

I don't feel like everyone needs to be protected from everything that could possibly be thought provoking or challenge their beliefs or anything like that.  And I'm not saying that it was the author's responsibility or the reposters' responsibility to put a trigger warning in place.  But for me, I needed one, so this is that warning for others.

#MicroblogMondays: Surviving

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I don't really know what to say.  This is a bad week.  I hadn't been blogging for a while both because of being crazy busy and because I didn't really know what to say because of how much I was dreading this week.  This past Friday was the anniversary of when I found out that Otter was gone.  This Wednesday is the anniversary of the surgery when so much changed.  Friday sucked hard.  I was really glad to have an excuse not to be seeing clients that day, and during the day was okay, but the evening brought up all my feelings of hopelessness and rejection.

Talking about it later with a friend of mine helped, as she pointed out that with having my son's birthday party on Friday, it became a dual celebration between celebrating his life and the fact that I lived through the surgery.

I'm still scared about Wednesday.  It's a major transition point for me career-wise as well, as I stop seeing one set of clients and say goodbye to the last of them.  Then I have a meeting along with the older kids that night and we go shopping for Father's Day presents.  I hope that will be enough to shut my heart down until after the kids are in bed that night, but I'm so scared that it won't be.

Healing

I'm finally reaching the point where it doesn't hurt to see babies or pregnant women.  And I'm still not upset about not being pregnant this month.  I don't know how I'm going to manage next month with the anniversaries, but right now, I think I'm finally healing, and it feels good.

Progress

I am proud of myself.  I got my BFN for the month on Wednesday, and instead of feeling hopeless and despondent, my only reaction was irritation that it hadn't waited until after the Girl Scout sleepover this weekend because of the inconvenience.

#MicroblogMondays: Mother's Day in Multiple Ways

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On Thursday night, I celebrated Mother's Day for the first time as a stepmother, though it's the third May since I became a stepmother.  Papa Bear gave the kids the option of whether they wanted to buy me something while they were buying their mom gifts, and they each chose to get a gift for me, along with a card that made me tear up.

On Sunday, I spent most of the day helping other people's kids along with my toddler, working at a quizbowl tournament.  Papa Bear got my friends in on helping distract me while he had the baby "sign" the card in crayon, and he picked out a present that I needed but wouldn't have thought of buying for myself.  I don't care much about brands of purses or anything like that, but I love POCKETS in my purses because I have trouble staying organized, and he got me one with lots of pockets.

What did the most to make me cry, though, was the text my Dad sent, "Happy Mother's Day x4."  My son, both stepkids, and my lost Otter.

Deep Breath

I just cut the last safety line career-wise.  I gave notice at the agency that I had been contracting with one day a week.  It's just me and the private practice now, or will be within the next couple of months (I gave long notice to be fair to them and my clients).

I know it's the right thing to do, because I make half as much per hour to drive twice as far, and there's a lot I need to do with building the practice that I don't have time to do while I'm working there.  So working there had been holding me back.  But it was also a feeling of security, a constant flow (even if not steady in attendance) of clients, and so I have anxiety about taking this step.

National Infertility Awareness Week: #StartAsking about Endometriosis

This year, for National Infertility Awareness Week, I would like for people to #StartAsking about endometriosis.  I don't mean asking in a casual way, mentioning to your doctor, "Gee, I wonder if I could have this."  I did that, and it almost killed me because I did not push the issue and get an answer until I was bleeding out on an operating table.

Looking back, it appears that I had symptoms of endometriosis from the beginning of my reproductive life.  In high school, I took Advil by the handful for 10+ days a month because it was the only way I could get through the school day and function.  I saw a doctor my senior year and she gave me a low dose Pill, but the word endometriosis was never mentioned.  My freshman year of college the symptoms got far worse, and I was put on the highest dose Pill that's still made, along with iron pills for the amount of blood I had lost, but still the word endometriosis was never mentioned.  At that point I hadn't heard of endometriosis, but I expected that my doctors would tell me if they suspected something was wrong.  My mom had been on the same strong Pill for most of her life, and so I just figured I was like her.

When I was married the first time and we weren't successful with trying to conceive, we went through test after test, but nothing was ever found, so we had the fun diagnosis of "unexplained infertility."  We looked at hormone levels and whether I could have a blocked tube, but never at endometriosis.  At that point, I obviously wasn't using the Pill to control the pain anymore, but I had a doctor who prescribed a strong NSAID to help.  He never mentioned endometriosis as a possibility even with that, simply helped me manage the pain.

When I started dating my current husband, he wondered whether the infertility could be the result of endometriosis, given my history, but then we conceived my son and the question was put aside until I had a cycle again.  I finally asked the doctor that I saw for follow ups after my son was born, and she just said that the answer to that question probably didn't matter and wasn't worth pursing because pregnancy tends to improve endometriosis and because it couldn't be answered without laproscopic surgery.  I just kept getting and taking the same strong NSAID that the doctor back in Maryland had given me, now prescribed by my Georgia doctors.

And that's where we left it until I learned that I had miscarried my second pregnancy and needed a D&C.  The ultrasound had looked abnormal, but they thought it was a different kind of abnormal, a molar pregnancy with a bicornate uterus.  What I actually had was an ectopic pregnancy, implanted on my ovary because my tube was too blocked by endometriosis for the egg to get through, even with how small an egg is.  The doctors did not learn this until I was bleeding out because they had perforated my uterus in getting to where the baby actually was.

Obviously, I survived, and I still may be able to conceive in the future.  Maybe.  But the question that haunts me is, what if the endometriosis had been diagnosed earlier?  What if I had pushed the question? What if my doctors had raised it, any of the doctors that I had seen over the years?

So please, #StartAsking about endometriosis.  Women, #StartAsking your doctors, and start pushing the question if you are blown off.  Doctors, #StartAsking if a patient exhibits symptoms.  Your patients may or may not choose to have the surgery to find out, but they may not know they have a decision to make unless you raise the question.

So Now What?

I had my doctor's appointment today.  It was SO hard being there while not being pregnant, especially since it was the first time since the follow up appointments after the surgery.  I was crying in the waiting room, although I was able to distract myself with my book and my silly Game of Thrones FB game.

It was better once my doctor came in.  He greeted me with a hug and immediately understood how hard it was for me to be there.  He said he had been rereading his notes from my case last year and that the hair on the back of his neck had risen again at how close a call it had been.  One thing that I have appreciated with him has been that he has been very human through this.  It would have been harder if he had been more of the "I'm always right, even when I'm not" type of doctor.

I told my doctor what has been going on, what symptoms I have been having that make me think the endo is back.  He confirmed that there was endo tissue that he hadn't gotten on the left because there hadn't been time while keeping me alive.  However, he also said that the symptoms I've been having may be more consistent with polyps than with endo.  He did say the pattern I have been having with my cycle falls into the realm of "normal" but could also make sense with the endo still being a problem.  I did forget to ask what stage the endo had been, so I'm going to call the nurse tomorrow and ask.

The key thing that he said, though, is that now that I have been diagnosed with endo, I can get things covered by insurance because it's testing and treating the adhesions from the endo, a diagnosed medical condition, rather than treating "unexplained infertility."  The first things he wants to check are the possibilities of polyps, a luteal phase defect, or another blocked tube.   He wants to do a kind of ultrasound to look for polyps, and he wants to do an HSG to see if adhesions are blocking my remaining tube.  I'll be calling around for prices on the HSG since that isn't in his office and even though insurance would cover it, I still have to be price-conscious because of having a deductible.  To check out the possibility of luteal phase defect, he wants me to start doing OPKs again so that he can then test my progesterone level a week after ovulation.  I wonder if I should start doing BBT again to go with it.

Depending on what we find out, we may be looking at anything from oral progesterone to Clomid to IUI.  Whether it falls into what insurance will cover or not, I can do anything short of IVF with him instead of with a fertility clinic.  I feel good about that, at least.  I know that, after what happened last year, he will pull and work anything he can to help us.  He thanked me for coming back to him after what happened, but it's what felt the most right, both because of how committed he is to us and because of the midwives there, who kept my son from being a c-section.

We will see what happens, but it's nice to be able to do something other than wonder and then despair every month.

Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News

Tomorrow morning I go back to the doctor who had done my D&C and, in the process, found my endo.  It's time for my yearly fun appointment, with all the fun since my mom died of a gynecologic cancer.  I need to talk to him about it seeming like the endo is back and discuss what we should do about it.  And then I most likely get to consider the finances and whether to pay for more surgery if it's recommended or whether to keep masking it with NSAIDs.  Fun timing, especially since this Sunday will be a year since we found out I was pregnant with Otter.

#MicroblogMondays: What's in a Name?

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My son's first word, at almost 6 months old, was "Mama."  He didn't say it again for a while, and then it was all "Dada, dada, dada" for another while before "Mama" came back into play, but anytime he did refer to me as anything, it was "Mama" and then "Mommy."  Over the past month or two, though, he's started calling me "Jessie."  I try to teach him to say and sign "Mommy," and sometimes it works, but other times I spend what feels like forever repeating "Mommy" while he responds with "Jessie." As a stepparent, I would never ask the older kids to refer to me by a name they don't feel comfortable with, and I would never try to supplant their mother.  At the same time, this side effect of that really hurts.  I worked so hard and went through so much to be able to actually be Mommy to someone, and even while I know how and why it's happening, it still feels like that is being diluted.

(I am really glad that my husband understands how I feel and why and does what he can to reinforce "Mommy" with my son)

Don't Step on a Crack...

The 23-month-old is in the phase where he wants to be held ALL. THE. TIME. (except when he wants to run in the street, of course)  Which sounds cute and adorable (while still mildly frustrating) right up until this weekend, when Papa Bear and I have both thrown out our backs in the past week lifting and carrying him.  Papa Bear threw his out on Tuesday when carrying the toddler reactivated an injury from a month ago, and I threw mine out for the first time ever yesterday when I took the toddler with me to WalMart to get an oil change so Papa Bear could take some medicine and rest his back.

It seemed like a great idea at the time, getting something I needed to done and helping Papa Bear get better.  And then an hour into the 3 1/2 hour wait (the last two hours of which went across all of his normal naptime), I threw my back out from the combination of the toddler wanting to be carried and wanting to throw everything out of the cart.  And then the last 45 minutes or so he was squirming on my lap screaming in the waiting area.  I had figured it would be ok because he can start his nap an hour late without problems, and I thought I'd be out of there in the two hours before it got to that point.  But then not only was he past that window, I couldn't hold him to shush him down to sleep in my arms because I was on the verge of crying (and sometimes past that verge) from the pain in my back.  And I couldn't call Papa Bear because he had taken his medicine like he was supposed to, and so he was very deeply asleep.

And of course this has to happen when I've got a lot of clients scheduled every day.  I'm thrilled to have so many clients, but it doesn't give me any opportunity to rest my back in between people or take medicine that will make me sleepy.

The best laid plans, I swear.

#MicroblogMondays: Hope Doesn't Float

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Hope is a cinder block.  If there is mortar and the plans are good and the ground is even and the foundation is strong, you can really build something.  If you don't have those things, hope becomes nothing more than the weight tied around your ankles, pulling you down as you try to swim and then as you try to just tread water.

#MicroblogMondays: Pools and Pools

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I started the day in a swimming pool in Ft. Myers, FL, enjoying swimming with Patrick and soaking in the hot tub.  I'm finishing the day in my uncle and aunt's home in Sarasota, waiting to see what will happen to my husband's basketball pools.  Villanova and UNC are tied, and the result determines whether he takes first or second in each of two pools worth several hundred dollars.  And Nova's buzzer-beater costs us around $400.  One the one hand, bite me Nova.  On the other hand, second is still worth some much-appreciated money.  And that was one hell of a game.

#MicroblogMondays: April Fools

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Ah, April Fools Day. the day when I feel like the biggest killjoy in the world.  And yet, I refuse to stop.  Every year, I will post something highlighting that the "I'm pregnant" prank is NOT FUNNY.  Even when I was pregnant, it wasn't funny.  Even when I had a baby and had not yet had my miscarriage, it wasn't funny.  Now that I've lost a baby and a tube and an ovary and haven't been able to conceive again, it sure as hell isn't funny.  Now that two of my closest friends lost their daughter at a day old and haven't conceived again, it sure as hell isn't funny.  I'm not saying people can't have fun on April Fools Day, but show some damned creativity!!!  And anyone who says I'm too sensitive is hereby invited to walk in my shoes or my husband's shoes or those of my friends T and D and then see how they feel.