For the longest time I didn't know how to express what was going through my head. The only thing I could compare my feelings to was the cliched onion. The more I peeled the damn layers away, the more layers I'd find. It was like I was searching for reasons to make myself sad.
My Husband, friends, family, kept trying to tell me, "You're putting too much pressure on yourself." or "It's just stress." But that got me nowhere and doubled the pressure and stress that I was feeling.
It hit me one day that I had climbed a tree, a very tall tree and got stuck. While I was shouting to everyone below for help, all they could offer was the obvious "You're stuck in a tree."
This was the feeling of helplessness fertility issues had caused myself and everyone around me.
Life began revolving around blood tests, HSGs, pelvic exams, Doctors, Naturalpaths and Psychologists. My days were evaluated as good or bad based on if I cried, how much and why? A good day had laughter, friends, the usual life type stuff and the bad days had me at my desk, at work, sobbing, because a pregnant woman had asked if I had clothes that would fit over her growing body.
It felt, to me, like I was walking a very fragile line, waiting for the moment when my strength would be tested and I would need to pretend that everything was okay, smile and hope no one noticed the tears I was blinking back.
This journey started as soon as we started trying. I was 35 and knew my age could cause some problems, so I went for a check up, asked the Dr. some questions and got myself a book about making babies.
The Dr. told me to be patient; she said that it could take up to a year, thanks to birth control. The book told me about charting to pin point your ovulation day and I learned contrary to popular belief, pregnancy doesn't happen just because you have sex, you have to time it just right.
Six months later and nothing. Not a thing. Though I had learned a whole lot more. I knew about cervical mucus, early pregnancy signs and sperm friendly lubricants.
So I went to my Dr.'s office to talk to a nurse. She knew nothing about sperm friendly lubricants, didn't seem concerned about my lack of cervical mucus, took my height, weight and blood pressure and told me to be patient.
Another six months passed and my optimism was declining rapidly. People were getting pregnant and giving birth in all corners of my life. I gave up Facebook and grew hesitant when checking emails.
I'm was afraid to talk to my Mom who was very keen for her first grand child to be born. Who, even though I'd asked her to stop putting pressure on me and that I wasn't interested in talking about babies or receiving gifts related to babies had found her way around the boundaries I'd drawn and talked about other people's babies.
After one year of trying my Dr. finally consented to an investigation to find out why I wasn't getting pregnant. She ordered a blood test and a sperm analysis. One for me, one for him.
He came back normal. Me? Well I'd made a wish that mine wouldn't come back normal. I wanted a problem to deal with rather than unexplained infertility. I immediately regretted that wish.
My blood test showed a raised level of prolactin. Prolactin is the hormone that allows a woman to breastfeed and tells her body she's unable to get pregnant while breastfeeding. This could have been what was causing us not to get pregnant and this could have also been a symptom of a brain tumour. I was floored.
In this moment I realized that I had no control over my life. And to prove it, the universe cut the power on our freezer, our food thawed and even though all I wanted to do was cry, I put on a brave face as we invited people over to help us eat our meat.
It took a month and half for us to get the MRI and only a week for it to come back negative for brain tumours. After the initial shock we were sure that this was the way the test would go. Afterall, I didn't feel sick! What added stress to my plate during that wait was my hormone levels and why no one was doing anything to lower them. Why wasn't anyone trying to help me out of the tree?
The Naturalpath gave me tea to drink daily and some Chaste Tree pills to take three times a day. The tea was to help my girl parts to do what they were supposed to do, the pills to increase the progesterone in my body to help conceive.
I had also adopted a Psycologist who began to help put past events behind me and tried to help me understand the present. It felt like forever before we began to make some breakthroughs.
With the MRI behind us, we were able to see a Gynaecologist. At first this was a happy time, but instead it took me to place I'd never expected to be. One minute I was hopeful and the next minute I was in a deep dark hole. We did another blood test and an internal and external ultra-sound before I even see the Gynaecologist. I'm told that I have a beautiful uterus and lovely ovaries. I took the compliment.
The Gynaecologist and his student both have a feel around inside. There's a lump, but nothing to worry about since my ultra-sound was clean, it was probably a post ovulatory cyst.
I'm scheduled for an HSG. This is where they insert x-ray dye into your cervix to see if your fallopian tubes are open. I'm told to expect period like cramps during this process, but what I get is pain. I recover on the table afterwards waiting for my legs to stop shaking before I can make my way to the Gyn's office for another pelvic exam.
This time there is no cyst, but I learn two pieces of interesting information.
1. My prolactin levels were normal. The test that had sent me for an MRI was so little above the comfort zone that it was likely that something as simple as stress or sex the night before the test had raised it a bit. I had already questioned my family Dr's sanity when I was originally informed about a possible tumour.... why was there no follow up or questions about symptoms, etc but this caused even more bewilderment.
2. The pain I had experienced during my HSG could have been a sign that my tubes were blocked, but the dye had pushed past and opened up the passage. Or, as the Gyn. put it, cleared out all the cobwebs. After doing some reseasrch on the internet I learned that those having trouble conceiving and experience the same things I had, during my HSG, can go on and get pregnant in the three months that follow.
I'm sent away with a prescription for Clomid and with the freedom to, finally, make a choice for myself.
Our options were:
1. Take Clomid. The success rate was low for us, because I didn't appear to have difficulty with ovulation.
2. IUI or artificial imsemination. This procedure has the sperm washed and inserted directly into the uterus. It cuts back the journey for the little swimmers and points them in the right direction. This could be the best option given my lack of cervical mucus.
3. IVF or In-vitro
We chose Clomid, for three months. This was less invasive and less costly. We live in an isolated area of Canada, and the closest fertility clinic, that would provide IUI or IVF was an hour and a half away by plane. The cost of the procedure, plus travel and the additional time off work was something we would do only if we had to.
My first round of Clomid comes with bitter tears. I read up on the side effects and learn that I should be prepared for nausea, headaches, etc. I take the pills at night so I could sleep off the worst of these.
It's at this stage, when the body that's already betraying me, takes it one step further.
Through most of this process I'd been feeling all kinds of flutterings and pressures in my pelvic area and my breasts were constantly aching. The Drs. don't seem concerned about all of this, so I try not to be either. Once I started taking the Clomid it felt like my breasts were growing, slightly, my nipples become darker and more sensitive and the pain more intense.
My period was due to begin on my birthday, so when it didn't, you can imagine where my head went. The pills were working! Only, I'm greeted at 4am on the morning after with very painful cramps. I spend that morning crying. Hope shattered is one thing, but to have cramps that bad felt like someone was getting pleasure out of my suffering.
I fumble my way through the work day bewildered. Despite the cramps, my period didn't show, there was brown spotting and all kids of other gross stuff, but no red blood. This continued for days. Precariously perched on a ledge between hope and more darkness I call both Drs.
The Gyn. asks if I'd taken a pregnancy test. I had taken two at this stage and both were negative. He asked other questions and I can feel his hesitation in answering. He doesn't want to give me false hope, but he needs to cover his butt as well, just in case I decide to go on a drinking binge.
He suggested it could be a pregnancy, but it could be one that will miscarry. He says something about not enough chromosomes, etc. But he does say not to take my second round of Clomid until I have a definitive period.
The Naturalpath suggests that it was my period and I should continue as normal.
Not wanting to take the risk we follow the Gyn's suggestions.
Eventually the spotting stops and twelve days later a 'definitive' period shows up, three days into 2011.
Surprisingly, despite how bruised 2010 left me, I still manage to feel hope.
