Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Warning: TMI and Lady Bits.
For those of you who subject yourself to the punishment of following my blog, you already know I’m trying to get pregnant. I’ve been trying since about 2004. I know, I was trying before we were hitched, but I don’t care... I don’t ascribe to any moral teachings that demand that permits are required for manufacturing wee ones. Wee one manufacturing should happen whenever it’s possible.
We really want a mini-us. Of course, we’re not rich enough to afford the swanky methods, like in-vitro fertilization (about $12,000 a pop with no guarantee to work and requires multiple tries x $12,000 ea [there goes the kid’s college fund!]) I suppose I can set aside my bitterness that people with lots of money (or who are willing to put themselves into hock up to their eyeballs for it) are the ones who can try all types of fertility treatments, and afford to adopt if they never get pregnant... and my health insurance won’t cover stuff if they decide it has to do with fertility. I suppose I can swallow my ire that fertility specialists charge $300 just for the initial consultation appointment. Instead, I have to go with the standard treatments to remediate all the other problems caused by the PCOD, and hope that the Clomid will work after all the other stuff has been done.
So for over five years, I’ve been a human pin-cushion. It started with a massive cyst (endometrioma/tumour) on my right ovary and some smaller tissues on my left ovary. The surgery sliced my belly from side to side, and I can barely recall Simon’s first days in our home because I was in a drug-induced haze. After that I’ve been subjected to clomid, pelvic examinations every six months (EEW!), medication that made me vomit almost every day and turned my tummy upside down, emotional rollercoasters and scares. Oh, and somewhere along the way, one of the few guys I’ve been with in my life gave me the HPV (men are jerks). Now, since the latest six-month run of clomid; and my latest exam, I got an ‘abmormal’ result. ::urgh:: My OB wants to roto-rooter my fallopian tubes, and so on top of that, they’re doing a Colposcopy and Cervical Biopsy to boot. So four days before my birthday, I’m scheduled for surgery. Yay? I am hoping that if she tames that uterus of mine, that the next round of clomid will be successful. I am hoping. I suppose the upside is that I am less at risk of giving birth to a litter of babies as those in-vitro women do. I’d rather just have the one. I’d be happier than anything with just one wee baby.
I will be turning 40 on the 22nd of February. I don’t know at what point we will decide enough is enough... but as time wears on, and still no success, I’m beginning to feel like that time is coming soon. Just the thought of giving up makes me want to just cry... but the flip side is... no more of ‘all-of-the-above’ BS. Maybe they can just cut out the whole uncooperative and useless kit & caboodle that is my non-functioning baby maker and I can be done with it. :::sigh:: I dunno. I’m so tired. Wah. /whining.