5/26/2016 2 Comments FIRST POSTI’ve been toying with the idea of starting a blog about my journey with infertility. I’m not great with follow through, but I am addicted to the internet. So, there’s an excellent chance that this could be the only blog post I create or I could post twice daily or somewhere in between. I want to create this post and/or blog (whatever this turns out to be) to educate the public on the topic of infertility. I am not nearly as eloquent as I would like to be, but I hope that my story can make other women feel less isolated. I will constantly reiterate the fact that one in eight couples struggle with fertility and one in four women experience a miscarriage. These statistics are mind blowing. The next time you find yourself in a room full of women, consider yourself lucky if you don’t fall into one of these categories.
A little about myself. I am a 28 year old school psychologist (not to be confused with a guidance counselor). I have had to overcome numerous obstacles and disappointments in my life. When the movie A Series of Unfortunate Events came out, I could have sworn someone had created my biography. I grew up in Southwest Virginia. I wasn’t the poorest kid in my school, but I’m sure we were not quite “middle-class” either. I have struggled with my weight my entire life and was bullied horribly. On my 15th birthday, I woke up with Bell’s palsy which lasted for several months and never healed all the way. When it came time for college, I genuinely didn’t know if I could afford to go. Luckily, I received numerous grants and scholarships and ended up with basically a free ride. I worked my butt off to finish in three years (with a 4.0 GPA, I might add). A few months before I graduated my father lost his job (on my birthday). I had no idea if I would be able to go to graduate school. Luckily, I had made the kind of connections I thought only privileged people had and I landed a job as a Resident Director which paid for my tuition. Since then, I have never had trouble getting the jobs of my choice. I felt like I was finally leading the life I had always hoped and dreamed about. I married the most wonderful man who loves me more than I ever thought anyone could. We had our dream wedding. Just last year we bought the biggest, most beautiful house I never could have thought I would own. On our house tour I noticed how one of the bedroom floors squeaked and I said aloud, “when our kids are teenagers they’ll have trouble sneaking out at night.” I knew we would have children and I knew they would grow up in this beautiful house in a wonderful neighborhood that I would’ve wanted to grow up in. Time kept moving forward and I began to get worried we weren’t going to have these children. My doctor told me we would have to wait a whole year until we could undergo any fertility testing or insurance wouldn’t pay for it. She ran some basic blood tests and said everything looked normal. A few more months past and nothing. She ran more tests and still said everything looked okay. We hit our year mark. I was terrified to make an appointment. At this point, I know my luck and I know something is wrong. I didn’t want to make an appointment. What if I was the problem? What if my husband was the problem? Would we be resentful of each other? I think I failed to mention I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and I am really good at jumping to conclusions and expecting the worst case scenario. I finally made the appointment for a referral. I go to the doctor and of course the doctor again says, “You’re so young. You have plenty of time. Just enjoy getting to try for a baby each month.” Clearly, this woman never had trouble having children. My appointment was scheduled for almost 2 months from my original referral date. The waiting is the worst. I am impatient and having infertility requires a significant amount of patience. At work a few days later, I got a call saying there was a cancellation and I could come that day in just two hours. I texted my husband. He wasn’t able to go, but I wasn’t willing to wait any longer. I had no idea what to expect. The doctor was old and looked like Dumbledore. He’s very nonchalant and did little to no explaining of what I was going to undergo that day. But somehow, he was still very calming and made things seem like no big deal. He left me in a room with all kinds of machines I had never seen before. The nurse saw my “deer in the headlights” look and explained I would be getting a vaginal sonogram and some blood work. Great. Not prepared in the slightest. For my entire life I had always gone way out of my way to find female lady doctors. I had not adequately prepared myself for this. But I braved up, put on my gown and put my feet in the stirrups. The doctor calmly explained to me that they like to see 12 follicles, but at any given time there should be at least 6 and I had three. I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t sound good. He also explained that the current egg I had was much smaller than it should have been and probably wasn’t viable. Again, I’m not sure what he’s saying, but I’m pretty sure “not viable” is a bad thing. As I laid on this table, with my feet in the stirrups, I began to wonder if this would be the only pictures of my uterus I would see. I was sad my husband wasn’t there. Then I was whisked away into a room where they attempted to take 10 different blood samples. I have the WORST veins ever. After an hour of trying and three different vein attempts I had eaten half of their lunch hour. The nurses took my blood samples and put them in a bag and asked me to walk them downstairs to the lab. GREAT. Worst day ever and now I have to take my own blood to the lab to see if it is enough. If it wasn’t enough I would have to start over. I gave my blood to the phlebotomist. She wasn’t sure if the vials had enough blood so she had to call a specialist down to see. I had to sit in the waiting room with a lady with a young daughter. She seemed so annoyed by her daughter she just gave her a phone and had her playing games. I had no idea what this lady’s story was, but I was immensely jealous and angry that she seemed to not appreciate her daughter. I had to keep reminding myself I was in a hospital and this lady’s day may have been as bad as mine was. Finally, the specialist came and said that was enough blood and sent me on my way. I barely made it to my car before I broke down sobbing. I cried in my car for an hour before I was able to drive. Luckily, I have an incredible supervisor and she understood that I could not go back to work. Then, more waiting. I had to wait for what felt like forever to get my results. I listened to “The Scientist” by Coldplay on repeat every day. Apparently, when I get depressed I like to wallow in it. The nurse called and said my progesterone was low, but that’s fixable. Although my follicle count was low, my AMH and FSH are okay. Not great, but workable. The nurse then said my husband’s semen sample was in the 99th percentile and she was shocked I wasn’t pregnant already. Thank you. Here’s your award for worst bedside manner ever. Next stop: HSG. A few days later I woke up with a horrible pain in my side. I had to ask my husband to take me to the emergency room. Turns out I had a kidney stone. Great. Worst pain I’ve ever experienced. Because I’m trying to get pregnant they could not do a CT scan, but did do an ultrasound. While the lady scanned the entire right side of my torso I again had the thought, “What if this is the only ultrasound I ever get to see?” A few days later, I had an HSG test. This test required them to shoot iodine dye into my uterus while using an X-Ray to see if I have blocked fallopian tubes. Again, I had to go alone because my husband was in the middle of studying for his PhD qualifier exam. When I was a child, my father had had a CT scan that required iodine dye and he had a severe allergic reaction which caused him to almost die. So me with my anxiety disorder knew this would also be my fate. The doctor prescribed me a cocktail of Prednisone and Benadryl that I would take 13 hours, 6 hours, and 1 hour before the HSG to reduce my risk of anaphylaxis. I was so worried about taking this I completely forgot to take some ibuprofen beforehand. The appointments were an hour behind schedule. Again more waiting. The doctor was very kind and kept asking how I was doing. Suddenly, I felt horrible pain. I could tell something was wrong because the young nurses did not have good poker faces. The doctor kept saying, “Your fallopian tubes may be having a spasm. Let’s just keep trying to wait it out.” After waiting and waiting and excruciating pain, he finally decided to stop. I definitely showed one blocked tube and one that he could not definitively say if it was blocked or not and that I would now need to have laparoscopic surgery. I began to weep right there on the spot. Then the doctor asked, “Which part of what I said made you upset?” I had no idea how to respond so choking back my tears I mustered out, “All of it.” He continued to attempt to reassure me that everything would be fine. Things did not feel fine. I had to go upstairs to schedule another appointment with the doctor. At this point, I did not care if people saw me crying. I’m in a hospital for Christ’s sake. I scheduled my follow up appointment and ran to my car where I wept until I felt like I could go home. Again, my lovely supervisor being so kind and understanding. The doctor prescribed me an antibiotic because the HSG test has a low risk of pelvic infection. But, if you have blocked tubes the risk is higher. This was happening in the middle of a very busy work week and some out-of-town friends were in for a conference (perfect timing for a fun night out). My face was red and hot all night and the following day. I just assumed it was because of all the stress and not having time to really process everything. Turns out, it was an allergic reaction to the antibiotics. Of course, I’ve never had an allergic reaction to medication until now. Perfect timing. After meeting with the doctor the following day, we didn’t hear anything we hadn’t already heard before. Now here are again waiting for my surgery date. Waiting and waiting and waiting. If waiting could kill I would’ve been dead weeks ago. I know we have so much more waiting and hoping left to do; it’s overwhelming just to think about it. I’ve joined a TTC (trying to conceive) Facebook group. I can’t believe how many people have been trying for 3, 5, 7, 10, or 15 years and have yet to have any “BFPs” (big fat positive pregnancy test). I work in special education so I am no stranger to acronyms, but man have I had to learn a thousand more. At this point, I’m pretty sure I can have an entire conversation without ever having to say a whole word. I’ve been pretty open about our experience on Facebook. I am shocked and humbled by the outpouring of support from my friends. I feel so blessed to have had so many people reach out to me to share their stories. I will cherish these stories and be your voice. If I am going to carry this burden I will do so in a way to educate and eradicate false conceptions of our struggles. All this time I have always thought of infertility as some urban legend that is no more real than Bigfoot. No one ever talks about infertility or miscarriages. One in 8 couples experience infertility. One in four women have a miscarriage. That is not an urban legend or something so infrequent it shouldn’t be discussed. This something that should be talked about regularly. We are not alone in our struggles. Our experiences should not be shrugged off or go unnoticed. They are real and they are the most painful of painful experiences. I used to think after having Bell’s palsy I should not have to experience any other traumas. Now, it just seems like that was practice. The last thing I want to leave in this post is about what to say (and not to say*) to those struggling with fertility. I do want to preface this by saying I appreciate every single one of my friends for reaching out and showing your support no matter what you said or how you said it. I know what you say has good intentions. However, these are things I wish to never hear again.
This is a long post, but I am grateful to those who made it through the whole thing. *Writers note: I only intended to write one or two things not to say, but as I typed my fingers wouldn’t stop typing. This list is also not exhaustive.
2 Comments
Jen Martin
5/26/2016 05:18:42 pm
Thank you for sharing your experience. I'm also a school psychologist (we have a mutual friend, Mandy, which is how I came across your blog) and as someone who has went through the pain of infertility before, I understand how devastating it is to go through test after test, treatment after treatment, and still-nothing. Depressed doesn't even begin to describe it. Please don't give up hope-it eventually happened for me and I have two gorgeous children now, but it wasn't due to "relaxing" or "thinking positive," but to some amazing doctors, a little bit (okay, a lot) of money, and honestly, just luck. I look forward to following the rest of your journey on your blog and wish you the best of luck.
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Heather
5/26/2016 05:57:44 pm
Thank you! I hope to do more posts.
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Heather Joyce
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