Moving Right Along

I can't think of that phrase without seeing Kermit the Frog and Fozzie Bear.

 

Anyway, I have my first honest-to-goodness RE appointment next Wednesday.  No family doctor, no Ob-Gyn, but a real, live Reproductive Endocrinologist.  I'm nervous and excited, all at the same time, but can't wait to see how it goes.  With any luck, I'll soon find out whether or not my tubes are actually blocked.

 

Because, of course, like infertile women throughout time, I'm holding out hope that maybe my test results were wrong, that there was a mistake.  That perhaps I was one of those cases who had a tubal spasm, rather than actually having a blockage.  That maybe, just maybe, my innards aren't in as bad a shape as it seems.

 

There is just something so profoundly human, and humanizing, about facing and suffering problems with fertility.  It is something that other people can never truly understand, unless they have suffered themselves.  You go through cycle after cycle, experiencing highs and lows that even crack addicts couldn't reach.  And it all starts with a spot of blood.  When you see that little crimson speck, that damned spot, you know that you weren't successful, that you aren't pregnant.  For a while, you grieve, and can't help feeling a bit silly about being upset over an[other] unsuccessful attempt.  But the emotions are real, and valid, and so damn it all.

 

As your cycle goes on, you start getting excited again: maybe THIS is the magic cycle where everything goes right.  Then anxiety starts kicking in once you get closer to ovulation.  Have I been taking enough vitamins?  Am I monitoring my cycle enough?  Do I have enough fertile cm?  Did I have good timing with sex/insemination?  Are those swimmers good enough?  And so on, ad nauseum.

 

Then The Big O finally happens, and you can relax.  Well, for about 3 minutes, anyway.  Then you start worrying again, especially if you do temperature charting.  What's that dip in my temp; was it implantation?  I spotted, is that a sign of something?  OR I didn't spot, is that a sign of something?  Why are my temps so low/so high?  I have cramps/boobs hurt; is that my period coming, or an early pregnancy sign?  My left toe is twitching, what does that mean?

 

Now we start worrying about when to test.  Should I POAS [pee on a stick, as in a pregnancy test] now, or wait a few more days?  You give in, and test way too early, and get a negative [just like you knew you would].  But even though common sense tells you it's too early, you immediately begin the hardening of your heart, insisting to yourself that you aren't pregnant, so you can "protect" yourself from the pain coming.  And the depression kicks in.  But in a very weird way, even in the midst of the angst, there's always a little kernel of hope that it still might happen.  And then it doesn't, because a few days later that damned spot comes back again.

 

I started off writing thinking about myself, but ended up thinking about all the women I've met over the past few years of TTC [trying to conceive].  Although I wish I'd had the pleasure of meeting them under different circumstances, I am so blessed to have met them at all.  My life would not be as enriched if I had never known such valiant and strong women, and I am honored to have met you all [and you all know who you are!].

 

Earlier I said that it was humanizing to go through TTC with fertility issues, and I'll tell you why.  Facing infertility, you have to face everything about your physical condition and do it head-on; there is no way to temporize if you want to be successful.  You go through invasive tests and procedures, things that would make strong men cringe just to imagine.  You have to explore your depths, and find determination and resolve that you never knew you had.  You have to address your doubts and concerns, and decide again every cycle whether or not to continue.  You face soul-crushing despair when a cycle ends in a negative, and experience uplifting hope when you start anew; the emotional travails are so tremendous that it is beyond my meager ability to adequately describe them.

 

But the most important thing is that through it all, there is love.  Love is what drives us, and love is what keeps us going.  The dream of having a child, loving a child, makes everything worthwhile.  So, try to remind me of that when I'm bitching next time, okay?