Yup, you guessed it. The expression my GYN used to describe the HSG I had this morning.
My poor womb…On the upside, there appears to be no blockages, I have a normal shape and location for a uterus. So forward I march on my relentless pursuit.
While I’m getting my relatively good news, my grandpa was given his life sentence. Making this day truly a challenge. My body is crampy and my heart is aching.
To be a whiney brat about how the students are slowly finding out about the expecting coworker and coming running to you to ask if you knew and when you’ll be starting a family…so you start looking for memes around the idea of “it starts” with Rafiki from The Lion King but the internet won’t let you get yourself down…
Well…S.O.B. Gimme a drink….
That will constantly have me wondering if I am ever going to be enough.
So, turns out – no triplets. Classic.
At least this time I didn’t seem totalled by the entire experience. Just my standard, “Once again I’m not pregnant” moping around. None of this “I really thought this time was it” bullshit that breaks my heart.
Upsides include getting an OBGYN. Now I have that interim person to do any of the procedure things PCRM needs, i.e. the HSG I will be going for this month hopefully, and watch over me once I become pregnant. This was the first meeting where I was face-to-face with someone discussing my infertility without bawling my eyes out. I’m here now, these are the steps, this is what we’ve done, these are our options, this is where you are in our journey, and this is what I want from you. At this point it’s been repeated so many times I was able to detach and deal with just the facts. Apparently the HSG will be extremely helpful. It will show the shape of my uterus, if there are any blockages and may even help clear the path if the blockages are minor. It is apparently a very viscous substance that will help the X-ray get a dyed scan and cause me extreme pain and discomfort that I will have to talk myself through and convince myself that it was all for the massive amount of information I will receive. Sounds fabulous.
I also, in what may seem like a surprise….insert eye roll…will have to go for more blood work!
I will be starting my third and likely final round of Clomid this month. It would appear the stars are aligning in that if this month doesn’t work, hopefully my clinic will have enough information that we can move forward with a more effective plan. I am still only taking 50 mg and will be taking them on days 3-7. My OBGYN says theres not much behind the days but whichever I prefer is fine.
On the upside, I get to use my stupid ClearBlue OPK computer thingy this month. I was honestly hoping to return the damn thing, but that is not the case.
My only reprieve is the half-marathon I’ve sign up for which is causing me great concern and will require me to begin running immediately. This month will be filled with wonderfully long runs and blissful yoga. Meditation, smoothies and reading books.
My mental health is weary and I need a break.
The words I’ve been asked 40 times this week as a coworker announced her pregnancy.
The sweet, kind gesture my dear friends passed along my way. They wanted to make sure that my heart was okay because they know my journey. They know my longing, my struggle and my plans.
Knowing their heart was in the right place I smiled and said of course. I’m sure they didn’t believe me but didn’t want to press the issue.
The truth is, I don’t wish this journey on my worst enemy. I don’t wish anyone the daily pain of the lives you’ve held and lost. The emptiness of waiting for something that you may never get. The disappointment that comes with each month. It’s a self-induced horror show.
The other truth is, I’ve become an expert at separating my love for my friends and their successes and my own journey. I can feel the overwhelming joy for the experiences my friends are having, wishing them the greatest lives they can live. I can hold their babies or see their bellies focused solely on how excited I am for them. I went through a really hard time after my first miscarriage when I found out other friends were pregnant. I was so wrapped up in my own bullshit I couldn’t handle it. Afterward, I felt horrible about the choices I made and came to terms with the fact that feeling this way would ruin my life if I continued to act this way. My friends and family will continue to have wonderful moments and I need to be able to participate fully without envy or jealousy or resentment. So I’ve worked hard and I’ve come a long way and I am proud of where I am with it all.
But those three little words were tough. Every time I focused on the truth but it was just a reminder that I still wasn’t there. But its OK, I keep pretending I have triplets in there. Two boys and a girl. Why not dream big!
Remember that dangerous word?! Well, here we are again! We’ve done all we can do, certainly felt the effects of the Clomid, and now we wait.
As hopefulness gently rises, I reluctantly let it in. While I’m so afraid of another month passing me by, it would unfair to let it define my entire journey.
I grieved my loss, discovered a coworker is expecting, managed a very full week of work and gave everything I could to TTC this month.
I have made yoga and running plans for next week, will start drinking my smoothies and hopefully feel better after that psycho hormonal bloating.
I am sending every positive vibe I can into the universe, asking for love and kindness and life!
I have my second accidental alignment with Brenè Brown’s Guideposts on reminding me something will have to work and if not, I still must find joy.
Cheers to the TWW!
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