Wednesday, March 18, 2015

I chose me

Life is full of decisions.  Most decisions are so inconsequential that we barely put thought into them.  Like what to wear on a given day.  Or what to have for dinner.  Other decisions take a little bit more thought.  Like which car to buy or where to go on vacation.  Some decisions have a long-term impact on your life.  Like which house to buy or retirement planning.  But most of these things, even the big decisions, aren't particularly emotional.  But there are some decisions that can rock you to your core.  I made one of those decisions recently.

Our infertility journey has taken a much shorter road than most, both in terms of length of time and in terms of medical interventions.  We started trying to have a baby in 2010 a couple of months before our wedding.  The first two years we weren't particularly worried.  We figured it would take time and we were busy with grad school (me) and working full time (both of us).  In year three we stepped it up a notch, in year four we went through infertility testing and diagnosis, and at the dawn of year five we decided to stop the madness.

But stopping the madness wasn't quite so easy for us.  You see, even though we began the process of mentally moving on and reshaping our lives to one without children, there was still a small chance that I could get pregnant.  There were no longer ovulation tests or timed intercourse, but there were also no preventative measures taken.  Admittedly the chance was really, really small (think lightening strike), but there was still a chance.  Having a chance leads to hope, and hope is a vile bitch.  I wanted to move on but there was that little voice in the back of my mind constantly whispering that it might happen.

The whispering was always there but for the most part I could ignore it.  I'm pretty decent with statistics, and the logical part of my brain understood that the chances of me getting pregnant were slightly better than non existent.  But what I couldn't ignore was my periods.  I've always had terrible periods, but in the last 18 months or so they've kicked it up a notch to what I would describe has horrific and less predictable to top it off.  Throw in some hot flashes, insomnia, and other things I won't put into print and life has been pretty great (sarcasm intended).

I couldn't deal with it anymore.  I couldn't deal with cramps that prescription pain pills couldn't take the edge off of.  I couldn't deal with the heavy bleeding.  I decided that I shouldn't have to pack a spare set of clothes in my work bag for "just in case."  I went to my annual gyn appointment in early February, on the heels of a particularly horrific period to discuss options.  I was desperate.  She recommended getting an IUD that would release a small amount of hormone directly into my uterus and would control the pain and bleeding.

But it wasn't that easy.  Of course I knew that in all likelihood getting the IUD would make my periods (and life) so much better but the flip side of that coin was the prospect of eliminating the really small chance of getting pregnant that I did have.  I took time to think about it and hubs and I talked about it a lot.  And then my next period hit.  Realistically it probably warranted a trip to the emergency room, but there was no way I could walk down the stairs and out of the house to the car so I just dealt with it.  The decision was made.  I called my insurance company to verify coverage and then scheduled the appointment.  The appointment was yesterday.

I felt like I had two crappy choices.  I could continue to deal with the periods and have a really small chance of getting pregnant.  Or I could get the IUD and have much better periods but also have no chance of getting pregnant.  This decision really did rock me to my core.  It felt like giving up.  It felt like admitting defeat.  In the end I had to choose me.  I chose my quality of life.  But I also chose to formally let go of a dream, and that was no small thing.

I (we) began the process of moving past infertility to happiness with a life without children for the better part of eight months now, but now that there is absolutely no chance that I can get pregnant I feel like the true healing can begin.  So today is the first day of the rest of my life.  I am excited about that.

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Since I can't write a post without a small bit of humor, I offer you this:  Yesterday, before they inserted the IUD, they made me take a pregnancy test (spoiler alert: it was negative).  I expected that I would have to do this, but what I thought was funny was that the nurse, who lacked in personality and general bedside manner, instructed me on how to pee in the cup.  I was like "ummm I've taken enough pregnancy (and ovulation) tests that I mastered the art of peeing into a small cup years ago."  As she let the test develop she made the comment "you never know, this might be a surprise."  Since I was already a bit on edge emotionally and had already decided that I didn't like her my snarkiness came out a little bit and I said "ovarian asshattery aside, there is no chance that I am pregnant."  To which she responded "how can you be so sure?"  To which I responded "math."  I thought this was funny because even a nurse at a large gyn practice didn't know it was physically impossible to be pregnant on the 12th day of your cycle (or at least not pregnant enough for it to show on a test).  Which further proves my assumption that I know more about getting pregnant then most people who are parents.

10 comments:

  1. I feel your pain on the horrible periods, literally. I took birth control for years, to regulate my body. But it only worked 90% of the time; twice a year, I still would have a killer period. And I got sick of taking a pill every day, so I stopped. I've actually started thinking about having a hysterectomy, but I'm just not sure if I can make that choice yet. Like you, its nearly impossible for us to get pregnant (think zero sperm count = zero babies).

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    1. I'm so sorry to hear that you have bad periods too! I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone, It's like a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation, isn't it? I was on birth control pills for a long time, too, but always had terrible side effects. So I'm really, really hoping that this isn't the case with the IUD. I'm hoping that I won't need a hysterectomy, but considering no maternal side female relative has made it to 40 with their uterus, it wouldn't surprise me if I need one too.

      If you think it would be helpful, I'm happy to give IUD updates (side effects, period updates, etc.). Very little is TMI to me. :)

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  2. Yes, hope is a vile bitch. I know.
    You had two crappy choices, so you have chosen less crappy one.
    I know it was hard and heartbreaking choice. But the other possibility was to suffer for a decade or more.
    wishing you all the best!
    hugs from Europe,
    Klara


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    1. Thank you so much for being there over the weekend during my mini freak out/feel sorry for myself episode. It really did mean a lot! I am lucky to count you as a friend, Klara!

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  3. The social worker/counsellor I saw to talk about infertility treatments & when/whether to stop encouraged us to consider some kind of birth control. She said, "I know it sounds crazy, after everything you've done to try to have a baby, but unless you do, you'll always have that nagging little hope at that back of your head every month." We never did take her advice -- partly because I didn't want to have to go back on the pill, or mess around with anything else -- but I have to admit, she was right. I had a pg "scare" in my mid-40s & I was quite surprised at how ticked off I felt. I knew then that I had come a lot further down the road of acceptance than I had figured. ;) And we were a lot more careful after that.

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    1. That is really sound advice! I'm really glad that birth control pills weren't my only option because I don't like missing with taking them every day or the side effects, but I knew that for my mental health I needed to do something. I imagine that a "scare" years after giving up the dream would leave me feeling ticked off too!

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  4. Sounds like a very tough choice. I know the sliver of a chance that might have existed for us getting pregnant (sounds promising, no?) in the months after our last failed treatment wreaked havoc on my nerves and spirit. I can relate to the logical part of your brain having cat fights with that sliver of a chance technicality part. It can be brutal. I'm confident you made the choice that was right for you, but I can appreciate it wasn't easy and that either choice has some tough ramifications.

    As far as your preg test story, I died laughing. That's a great story. Horrible, but great. I'm glad you gave it to her. I truly hate the "but the test might be positive" types. I think this attitude in and of itself should be considered a felony. Pigs might fly too, if you're a moron. And it's hilarious you said "math" - I'm always commenting about how fertile people can't do math and I actually call it "fertile world math". No doubt this was a total fertile world math scenario. Someone tried the "you never know" crap on me once - complete with that whiny self righteous voice and wagging pointer finger that I can't stand - to which I responded "That's totally untrue. Sometimes you DO know."

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    1. It's funny...I debated about even writing this because I was convinced that I was making too big of a deal about this and didn't want to put my crazy on full display, but it seems that my feelings/experiences aren't so uncommon after all.

      I totally get infertility wreaking havoc on nerves and spirt. Confidence too. Infertility broke me. It shattered my nerves, spirit, and confidence. I'm slowly getting that back. In many ways I think that getting the IUD was huge step in reclaiming me. In many ways it was a symbolic middle finger to infertility and my reproductive system.

      The nurse was a total jerk. I'm glad that I stood up to her. Sometimes my sarcastic nature comes in handy. And when you've been through infertility, yes, you do know.

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  5. For what it's worth, you made the decision that was right for you, so it was the right decision. I hope the mirena (or whatever) helps with your horrific periods. Having experienced some like that, and needed blood transfusions as a result, I know that you're not exaggerating, and that you need to take your health seriously.

    I liked your response to the nurse. I have no patience for people like her who should know better.

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    1. Periods that required transfusions?! Holy crap! I don't think that any of mine were ever that bad, but then again I never sought medical treatment during heavy bleeding/clotting. Though when I told the midwife about the size of clots that I regularly pass she was equal parts horrified and awestruck. It was the Mirena that I got. Initially I wanted to avoid hormones for a whole slew of reasons but the non-hormonal copper IUD almost always causes heavier or significantly heavier periods, and that wasn't a safe option.

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