Monthly Archives: December 2013

Here’s looking at you, kid…?


On August 27th I had surgery to remove my uterine septum. My septum was 18mm deep and the goal was to get it less than 10mm. A month later I went back for a post op appointment and my RE confirmed via ultrasound that my septum was still at 12mm. Only 6mm gone… During surgery she cut until she saw my main artery and stopped. I asked her if we should go back in for another surgery and try to get more of the septum and she said that it was up to me. At 12mm I’m still 86% chance of miscarriage–over 90% if the embryo implants on my septum. Anything over 10mm they recommend having the septum removed. I asked about the artery and she said that if it did get hit in a future surgery she would just cauterize it. Hmm. Wonder why she didn’t think of that when she was in there the first time? I also asked if I were just coming in as a first time patient if she would recommend going in to remove a septum at 12mm and she said yes. But, if I wanted to try and see what happened, we were given the go ahead to try. She did state that I should start trying as soon as possible before more polyps came back; she took out several during the hysteroscopy/septum resection surgery (which also turned into another D&C). Before leaving I asked her if there was a reason each pregnancy was getting shorter. The first baby made it to 12 weeks. The second to 7 1/2 weeks. The third baby only 6 1/2. She said that each pregnancy was it’s “own occurrence” and they were not related to each other. I found it odd that she stated it that way… Each was their own occurrence. Not related to each other. Well, they are related. They’re all mine, from my body. Are my eggs getting too old? Is my body giving up on me?

We did not start trying in September or October because on October 30th I had to have surgery on my left shoulder–rotator cuff surgery. In June I hurt myself at work and I was doing physical therapy with the hopes that I wouldn’t need the surgery. I’ve been off work since the rotator surgery and doing physical therapy. I will be nine weeks post op this Wednesday. I see the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow to check the status. Hopefully, we can start trying soon.

When we do start trying, I will need to be on folic acid, take progesterone vaginal inserts 3 days after I’ve ovulated and the minute I know I’m pregnant, I will need to be heparin shots because I have a blood clotting disorder called an MTHFR factor. We could and should do another septum resection, but I’m not ready to go through that surgery again. I’m not ready to go through another miscarriage again, either. Will I blame myself even more if I miscarry again because I didn’t go back in and get the surgery redone? I’m sure I’ll blame myself either way.

One final irony… I went to my regular gynecologist at the beginning of this month for my pap and annual exam. I always dread going there because there are newborn baby pictures everywhere. This year, though, I was brought into a different room. There were no baby pictures. There was this:

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The nurse, Julie, who put me in this room knew what I had gone through the past two years. She was the one who would tell me that my HcG levels were going down and that I was miscarrying. She would call the insurance company on my behalf and she would call my RE to get the updates. I was grateful that she put me in this room. It did, however, make me sad. Was this now my future? A couple of rocking chairs on the porch instead of pictures of babies plastering my walls? I wouldn’t say that I’ve given up on having a baby, but slowly you start to wonder the fate of your future. You see this picture and you start to believe that there is a new reality out there… One without babies, diapers and tiny toes. There’s only so much time left. There’s only so much money. We can’t afford several thousand dollars of treatments and we also can’t afford adoption. If it doesn’t happen soon, it won’t happen at all.

My best friend, who I spoke about in my entry titled “Septum Stuff,” is currently six months pregnant. I saw her over this past weekend and she offered, again, to carry our baby after she has her third baby (this is her second pregnancy). She said in three or four years she’d like to carry our baby for us, if it doesn’t happen before then. I told her I appreciated the sentiment, but I could never allow her to do that. She said we would discuss it further down the road… Again, this would cost over $100,000… There are legal fees and costs that our insurance wouldn’t cover. We couldn’t afford this either. We can start saving and see if we can get anywhere close to where we need to be, but I don’t know if I could ever let someone do such a selfless act for me.

The future is scary. I’m a planner and I can’t plan any of this. I can only hope that I can accept however this is meant to turn out.


It just ain’t fittin’.


One reason I haven’t written a lot here is that I’ve been struggling with how to bring this blog full circle. How do I incorporate weight loss and miscarriage? How do they relate? How can I make sense of all this?

This past weekend my husband and I went to Ohio to see his family. We had Thanksgiving/Christmas/birthday’s all rolled into one visit. I enjoy going there to see his family and we try to get there four times a year. This year was special because we were there to see his mom’s friend’s son. I’ll call him Joe.

Joe is a unique individual because he weighs 667 lbs. The reason we went to go see him was because my mother-in-law has been showing pictures of my husband to all of her friends since he has lost over 125lbs since our wedding, which was a year and a half ago. She’s proud of my husband, and rightfully so. I’ve lost 42 lbs since the wedding, but his weight loss has been more dramatic than mine. He looks so different, and since his family only sees him four times a year, he always appears very differently.

My husband’s mom was telling her best friend about my husband and her friend confided in her that her son was 667lbs. He’s home bound, doesn’t work and is on oxygen. Joe’s mom asked my husband’s mom if he wouldn’t mind talking to Joe to see if he could help him. Joe didn’t want to have anything to do with the plan. He didn’t want anyone to see him. But, after seeing my husband’s photos and his dramatic weight loss, he agreed to speak to my husband.

Before getting to his house, we put together a plan for Joe. The plan was basic… He was going to eat a little less and move a little more. We didn’t know what to expect or what we were getting into. Up until the moment we were in his house, I didn’t believe I was going to get to talk to Joe. I was upset that I wasn’t going to get to meet him. I wanted to help. But when were in his house, his mom allowed me to come into the room, and I was surprised that he was ok with me seeing him.

Meeting Joe will probably live in my memory as one of the most pivotal moments of my life. He was genuine, sincere and honest. What struck me the most was how real he was. I would assume, most people would be awe struck from just knowing his weight and that we were talking to someone that could have been on one of those morbidly obese television shows. Most people would have assumed he was gross and that he lived in a disgusting home. That’s how morbidly obese people are portrayed on TV. His home was cleaner than ours. He was just like us.

Originally this blog was going to be a book, and I wrote this several years ago:

“You have a pretty face.” The doctor, who was going to help perform her gastric bypass surgery, told her that while taking an evaluation of her. No diabetes, no high blood pressure, she was in practically perfect health… Except for the fact that she weighted almost 850lbs. Can you image? What he really meant was that you’re pretty under that gluttonous mouth. I watched the show in awe, disgust and hoped that I would never be like her. She was a side show who was shoveled out of her home by many men. Why would anyone want to be like her?

But I was like her. I wanted to be like her. I was jealous of the fact that she had two beautiful daughters. Her life could have just as easily been mine. It still could be.

She died a few days after her surgery. I still wonder what happened to her daughters.


While we were talking to Joe, I was thinking about this woman. “You have a pretty face.” I was thinking about how it applied to Joe. He had a very handsome face. Period. Not if he lost a bunch of weight, but right now. He was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to and it was definitely one of the most real conversations I’ve ever had. I could have been that woman. I could have been Joe. At my heaviest weight, I was 487 pounds. Why didn’t I become home-bound. Why did I find the strength? How? Where?

I was thinking how ironic it was that I, a 380 lb woman was trying to teach this man how to eat. What foods were bad and what foods were good; how to know the difference and how to succeed on this journey that he was about to take. Ironic.

There are many things that I wish I could fix in this world. I wish I could help all the people who can’t have babies who want one. I wish I could give everyone healthy food, a warm bed and a warm shower. I wish I could take away the bad and give more good.

I think about Joe every day and wonder how his journey is going. I think about all those women who can’t have children easily and without complication. I think about myself and how I want to help others and I haven’t even helped myself yet. Or maybe I have… Maybe this is my “help”… Maybe this is my journey. And that doesn’t mean that I can’t bring others along with me. I’m still trying to make it all fit together.