Post Op!

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I had my second hysteroscopic septosplasty yesterday. Apparently, that’s the technical term for it; I had been just calling it a septum resection. Everything went according to plan and there were no hiccups in the day. Unlike the first surgery, this one was on time and I didn’t have a difficult time waking up from surgery. I had minimal pain, cramping and bleeding. It went as good as it could have gone. The RE said, “This should solve the problem and I shouldn’t have any problem carrying a baby to term now.”

I’m glad that surgery is done and out of the way. We wavered so much in even having it done. It was extremely scary because during the first surgery, she said that she saw a “main artery” and stopped. So there was was much confusion in, if she stopped the first time, how much more could she get the second time? Originally my septum was 18mm. After the first surgery, she got the septum down to 12mm. Anything over 12mm they recommend doing surgery. So, we’re hoping to be 6mm or less during the next ultrasound, which will be in about a month depending on when my next period starts. We can’t start conceiving for another three months, which I’ll gladly take as a much needed break.

I should be 26 weeks tomorrow. It’s still a little surreal that I”m not pregnant and there will be another non-birthday in my future. This Fall will be extremely difficult.

I heard on the radio yesterday there will be a big baby boom this Fall because of the harsh winter we had last year. Dandy. Maybe that’s why it seems like everyone is pregnant? Who knows.

I’ll try to be a little more regular in my posts. It’s just so hard write anymore.

 

 

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Standing Still

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Seriously, have you ever met a motherless woman who wasn’t completely insane? Think of a woman who doesn’t have a child. She’s not normal and you know it. I think this process makes us crazy.

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Today is a particularly difficult day. I don’t know why. There’s no good reason. I’ve taken an anxiety pill. I’m trying to relax. One huge fault/problem that I have is that I can’t relax. The thought of trying to relax absolutely terrifies me and send me into a fit of panic. I have the day off work, and I have nothing planned for the day. Normally, days are packed with errands and to-do’s for the day. Today I have nothing. I’m at my worst when I’m alone left to my own devices. My mind wanders and it’s not long before I’m trying to talk myself out of hysteria.

I struggle daily with the losses. Reading the blogs does not help. The same stories. The same sad story of hope, loss, and helplessness is heartbreaking. The cyclical defeat is gut-wrenching. Some of you are pregnant. Some of you are pregnant and have lost your baby and are waiting for the miscarriage to start. Some of you are in your TWW. Some of you are sitting there more depressed than you’ve ever been. I feel your heartache. I wish I could take your pain away. I wish I could elevate that burden. I wish I could put your baby in your arms and give you that miracle.

I feel like everyone’s lives are continuing on around me, and I’m standing still. I’m standing still in a flurry of activities that surround me. Babies turning into toddlers, who turn into little people with personalities and passions. Friends’ schedules filling with their children’s activities of girl scouts, soccer practice and training bras. Cousin’s with children who will start driving soon. Friends whose first child just graduated high school. And I’m standing still. Standing still with my head spinning and my heart aching.

Ever since decided to go forward with the second septum surgery, I’ve been thinking about canceling it. Right now we’re 4 and a half weeks from the surgery date and I’m terrified. Terrified of dying on the table if she cuts the main artery that she saw the first time. Terrified of the pain. Terrified of it not working. Terrified of getting pregnant a fifth time and losing that baby. Terrified of carrying the baby longer than I ever have ever carried a baby and losing it further along. I wanted to have the surgery so that I could say, “I did everything I could.” But now, I don’t know. Can I handle another loss? Can I put myself through the again?

Where this will go, I don’t know. The ache from my first loss is so fresh and real. That was over 11 years ago. This doesn’t get any easier. The grief consumes me. I hold onto the pain. I cradle and coddle it. I protect my pain because it’s all I have left of my babies. I keep it too close to the surface. The smart and sane thing to do would be to bury the feelings. Put them in the coffin I never got to put my babies in and bury it deep below the surface. I should let it go. Fear and shame are running my life and I have to stop this. I feel depressed and scared that I will never be a mother and that my husband will never get to be a father. I’m sad for us.

Our Infertility Rap Sheets

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Thank you for helping me understand we’re more than this number.

Ever Upward™

Ever Upward is growing. My world is expanding. My recovery is strengthening.

Which also means my shamed silence is triggered more often. Even though my shame resilience has grown as a result of my practicing recovery.

As I meet more and more people in the infertility world, blogging or otherwise, I am finding myself comparing my story to theirs. I have always been uncomfortable with the TTC (trying to conceive) timelines. I am especially uncomfortable when our About pages and Twitter bio’s are our TTC timelines full of numbers and acronyms.

What I have come to realize is that my discomfort is simply a result of my shame being triggered.

The numbers we share to describe ourselves; how many miscarriages, cycles, IUIs, IVFs, BFNs, etc.* Hell, I have my numbers in my bio (two rounds of IVF and three never to be babies). I thought I included these because…

View original post 613 more words

An Infertile’s Relationship with Shame, Blame and Guilt

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I need to reread this over and over again. Thank you!

My Perfect Breakdown

Following other bloggers and learning more about the emotional consequences of infertility and miscarriage, I’ve begun to realize that there is are very real and deep rooted feeling of guilt, shame and self-blame for those experiencing most (if not all) types of infertility.

I find these emotions fascinating because I have not once felt shame because of our miscarriages and I have never blamed either one of us for them. Although, I do feel guilt, it’s important to note that guilt is an emotion that I feel about almost everything, so for me it’s not unique to this circumstance (I’ll get into my obsession with guilt in a bit).

Before I jump into my experience with these three emotions, first, let me state that I have watched Brené Brown’s TED Talk, and have only read only the first 3 chapters of The Gifts of Imperfection.  (I have no idea why, but…

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What do I say to my co-worker who has suffered a miscarriage?

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I wish I could give this to everyone to read.

Dwonna Know What I Think?

Dear Dwonna:

My co-worker was four months pregnant when she suffered a miscarriage. What should I say?

Signed,

Marilyn

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*Nisey James, my former student at the University of Texas, has answered this question for me since she understands this profound loss.*
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Dear Marilyn,

First, I’d like to commend you on seeking guidance. This is a very delicate time for your coworker, and you’ve unwittingly given her the best gift possible: thoughtful consideration.

As the mother of a sleeping son, I want to thank you for doing what so few have the courage to do. As someone who knows how painful it is to be a childless mother, I’m honored to offer whatever assistance I can to you (and, consequently, to your coworker).

Here is my advice.

Say something—and then be prepared to just listen. Most people don’t know what to say to someone who suffers a…

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Rainbow Colored Glasses

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It’s been a while since I’ve written anything. The last miscarriage kinda took it out of me.

Since the last miscarriage I see rainbows everywhere. On walls and in the sky. I see one and know that it’s there just for me. The one that prompted the title of this post, “Rainbow Colored Glasses,” came on our two year wedding anniversary. We were heading home from our date and through my sunglasses I could see a beautiful rainbow in the clouds. I took my sunglasses off to get a better view, and I couldn’t see the rainbow without my sunglasses on. I kept putting them on and taking them off, and realized that I could only see them through the glasses… And they’re not special glasses 🙂 All the other rainbows I see without the sunglasses–I don’t want to make it sound like this is a magical thing. I try to always get photos of the rainbows and eventually I plan on posting a blog with the photos. On particularly rough days, I know that I’ll be seeing a rainbow… and I always do.

I’m reading all of your blogs… Thinking of you and praying for you. Every day is a “struggle.” I’m on a new anxiety medicine and I’m trying to keep my feelings and emotions in check. My hypochondria is constantly being tested.

After much discussion, we’re going to do the uterine septum surgery one more time, which will be the beginning of August. I was skeptical about going through that again, but in the end, I want to be able to say that I did everything I possibly could. If the surgery is set for the beginning of August, we won’t be able to start trying again until November or December. So, one more surgery, one more pregnancy, one more time. Then we’ll probably look into adoption or other alternatives if that doesn’t work.

Soo…. that’s it for now. Hopefully I’ll start posting a little more regularly again. We’ll see. Until then, take care!