So where do you begin when starting a blog, I guess from the beginning and a little introduction. I'm Emily. I'm 24 .... OK 24 +7. I am married to one of ‘The Few, The Proud,’ but I am far from that myself. I am only 1 of over 6 million women who share this silent, unspoken, elephant-in-the-room, disease. And yes, I will call it a disease, because it is. Just 2 ½ years ago the World Health Organization finally stepped forward for the very first time, to declare infertility a disease.
Jim and I have endured IF (infertility) for more years that I can keep track. We have learned that we have to fight for our treatment, because when you're in your 20’s no doctor wants to treat you, they just see you as an impatient, stupid child and brush you aside with the rest of their meaningless paperwork.
Over the course of the years I’ve been through countless tests and procedures, because you will go through anything to get an answer, and hopefully a solution. So let me start with the HSG: (hysterosalpingogram) – its like a scene from Hostel, except the doctors are not wearing butcher overalls and rubber boots. They have you hop up on a cold metal table in a hospital X-ray room with the most uncomfortable stir-ups you can imagine. They take what I call, the ‘Jaws of Life’ (imagine a small tool that looks like a bear claw trap) and clamp it on your cervix to turn it inside out. Not all women get this lovely ‘Jaw of Life’ device but I am one of the lucky few who’s cervix is upside down and twist, so this is the only way it can be reached during procedures. Once this torture device is firmly clamped on, and they stop the bleeding, they then dilate your cervix with a small balloon so a catheter can be threaded through and glow-in-the-dark dye shot into your uterus and fallopian tubes. They tell you to expect heavy cramping during the procedure and for several hours after, ‘heavy’ doesn’t even come close; try more of a take-your-breath-away excruciating pain. And just to be sure this test was accurate, I went through it not once … but twice, in a 6-year period, both with no answers, because as always everything looked “perfect”. I didn’t even get to walk out with super powers from the radio active die - just a one-size-fits-all pad that really shouldn’t be given to the largest of ladies, cause its too big!
After my 3rd miscarriage, I requested I get a full RPL (recurrent pregnancy loss) panel ran, as well as Karyotyping on both of us. All this was, was just a crap load of blood test, the karyotyping even more blood work to see if we were carriers of any chromosomal defects - which thankfully we are not not. Once again everything came back normal, other than finding out I had MTHRF C677T (thanks mom & dad)!!
Sometime in 2011, after my 4th, or 5th, miscarriage, I had an EB (endometrial biopsy) test done. As always for me, this procedure started with the God-awful ‘Jaws of Life’, and since I had been under my doctors care for way to many years, they thought why not let a resident take a shot at this. Normally I wouldn’t care, and never have. But when it comes a women’s very uncooperative cervix, an experienced doctor really should be the one elbow deep. After the doctor-in-training stopped the bleeding from the spikes that were dug deep into my cervix, she then started the dilation process and onto the ‘quick and easy’ scrapping of the lining. Quick and easy, my ass. The best way I can explain this, is to imagine Freddy Kruger trying to claw his way out of your uterus, slowly. After almost hyperventilating in pain, and using words I don't think could even come out of a truckers mouth, I was told by the sweet, smiling resident that she did not get enough tissue to sample and needed to go in ‘just one more time’. That was the day I developed PTSD and walked out with no more answers than I had walked in with.
Sometime in 2011, after my 4th, or 5th, miscarriage, I had an EB (endometrial biopsy) test done. As always for me, this procedure started with the God-awful ‘Jaws of Life’, and since I had been under my doctors care for way to many years, they thought why not let a resident take a shot at this. Normally I wouldn’t care, and never have. But when it comes a women’s very uncooperative cervix, an experienced doctor really should be the one elbow deep. After the doctor-in-training stopped the bleeding from the spikes that were dug deep into my cervix, she then started the dilation process and onto the ‘quick and easy’ scrapping of the lining. Quick and easy, my ass. The best way I can explain this, is to imagine Freddy Kruger trying to claw his way out of your uterus, slowly. After almost hyperventilating in pain, and using words I don't think could even come out of a truckers mouth, I was told by the sweet, smiling resident that she did not get enough tissue to sample and needed to go in ‘just one more time’. That was the day I developed PTSD and walked out with no more answers than I had walked in with.
After miscarriage #6, I went on to have a Hysteroscopy. If only they could all be this easy. This procedure involved another new doctor, and now a camera. This unconventional camera was a special vagina camera. Its purpose was to be shoved up my Hoo-Ha to snap pictures of how scarred up and inflamed my womb looked. We were prepared to see something out of the Walking Dead with major scar tissue build-up due to the 6 miscarriages and 2 D&C’s, however my little uterus pleasantly surprised the doctor when all she could find was baby-butt pink, beautiful, perfect-looking lining. Another procedure to give us even more unanswered questions.
I’ve had more blood taken from me over the years than what the entire Cullen Family drinks in a lifetime (and as you know, those vampires live pretty long) – needles no longer phase me. As a child I had to have a blood test done, for some reason or another and I remember throwing the worst “They are not touching me with a 20-mile pole” screaming match with my mom. I will never forget her words to me “You know you will have to have blood taken if you ever what to have a baby, they have to make sure the baby's doing OK” And my response to this day makes me laugh out loud. I said, “Not me, I will NEVER let them do that!” HA. If I had only known then what was in store for me.
I’ve shot up meds in public bathrooms, the craft isle at Michael's, under the table while out to eat, in movie theaters, parking lots of fast food chains, and dark alleys with my pimp. Well the dark alleys, were more like dark rooms – and my pimp more like my husband, but when you shoot up as much as I have, you fit right in with those druggies, or at least feel like it.
I remember sitting at Beach Break Cafe (a local family own restaurant) with a group of friends and their kids, and ever so gracefully Jim and I dealt my needles, syringes and meds back and forth under the table to each other. I drew up my meds, shot up in the stomach and not a sole around me new the wiser.
Sadly, we have this down to an almost perfect science now, but it wasn't always like that. We had to learn the hard way the first few cycles, Jim seemed to love hitting my sciatic when administering my PIO (progesterone-in-oil) shots, and I walked around with a old-lady walker for weeks, but now he just goes of the lumps of scar tissue that has built up and it acts as a perfect target. We're even thinking of given those little nodules a nick-name.
I’ve shot up meds in public bathrooms, the craft isle at Michael's, under the table while out to eat, in movie theaters, parking lots of fast food chains, and dark alleys with my pimp. Well the dark alleys, were more like dark rooms – and my pimp more like my husband, but when you shoot up as much as I have, you fit right in with those druggies, or at least feel like it.
I remember sitting at Beach Break Cafe (a local family own restaurant) with a group of friends and their kids, and ever so gracefully Jim and I dealt my needles, syringes and meds back and forth under the table to each other. I drew up my meds, shot up in the stomach and not a sole around me new the wiser.
Sadly, we have this down to an almost perfect science now, but it wasn't always like that. We had to learn the hard way the first few cycles, Jim seemed to love hitting my sciatic when administering my PIO (progesterone-in-oil) shots, and I walked around with a old-lady walker for weeks, but now he just goes of the lumps of scar tissue that has built up and it acts as a perfect target. We're even thinking of given those little nodules a nick-name.
A year ago this Fathers Day we found out we were the winners of a FREE IVF. If it were not for the amazing support of family, friends and complete strangers from around the world (literally had people in other countries voting for us) we would not be here now. We would never have had the opportunity to work with a world-renowned RE to help give us our dream - it was a full blown God thing. We have been blessed with unexpected grace around every corner. Unexpected grace from the doctors who donated the free cycle, to the people who voted for us, and the friends who have offered to donate medication to me, and of course the unexpected grace which seems to be overflowing from the selfless friends who are sacrificing their family to help grow ours. Although I have to say the most surprising of all this, is the unexpected grace I am learning to give myself. As a mom, all you want to do is protect your children, and normally, no one could do that better than you. But in this case, as a mom, I know my children will be safer in someone else's body and as hard as that is, it is the best thing I can do to protect them.
The Lord works in every situation, and although it would be my wish to have a crystal ball to see into the future, it’s been amazing to watch the Lords plan unfold in front of our eyes. He has answered prayers far bigger than I could have ever expected. I would not choose this roller coaster of a ride for anything, but it’s the cards we were dealt and we are learning how to play them. So here is to our new and exciting unexpected journey ahead!! Cant wait to see what the Lord has in store with our story.
Your strength constantly amazes me my beautiful wife. i love you and miss you very much.
ReplyDeleteyou just like it cause I called you 'my pimp'.
DeleteA great start to an amazing journey! Such courage and strength you both have! I look forward to following your story to the happy end!
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