This post has been a long time coming considering my history
with trying to get pregnant. Note: If
for any reason the idea of me being sexually active makes you uncomfortable,
this is not the post for you…but I did give birth so, you know, I am.
When Paul and I first decided we wanted to start a family he
was hesitant, a normal reaction I think.
He is a very logical human, he wanted to make sure that we were prepared
to provide for a child in the best way possible. At that point I was twenty-six and oh boy was
I ready. So I did what I do, I researched
and read until I knew everything I could about my body and my fertility. I was ready!
But unfortunately, you can’t research a baby into existence and time
passed with no luck. I knew that you
have to give it a year before you freak out so we did that. But then I started to freak out so I went to
see a doctor. I ended up seeing multiple
doctors and I won’t bore you with the details, but I was eventually diagnosed
with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome).
Boiled down that means that every month my ovaries have a little party
and I developed a lot of follicles that rarely progressed to being fully
developed eggs. So I started taking
fertility drugs. I did five rounds of a
medication called Clomid that helps your hormones develop a fully functional
egg…it also makes you an emotional basket case, but just for about 5 days. No luck on the Clomid. Then for a year I was on a medication called
Metformin, which is actually a medication for diabetes but has a side effect that
apparently readjusts your hormone levels.
That was also not a pleasant experience.
Because it was for diabetics, my body stopped being able to process
sugar in the same way, so I just felt sick to my stomach all the time.
So years are going by with no luck. Anyone who has gone through this, and there
are a lot of us, understands what this means.
It means that you cry every month when your period comes. You have calendars and charts and schedules
and sex is suddenly no longer about enjoying your partner, but it is your duty
to do it correctly! You lay in weird
positions afterward, you prop your hips up with pillows and you pray to the
gods that this time is the time. In the
summer of 2012 I got pregnant and there was much rejoicing! It was totally natural, I was so over drugs
by that point. But I lost it at around 7
weeks and I was devastated. Having been
through that experience and having talked to many of my friends, early
miscarriage is so incredibly common but that does not make it any easier. I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I had to
because I had been so excited that I had told all of my parents (I have a lot
of those) so it was a series of very painful phone calls.
But I will say this, having a miscarriage brought my husband
and I closer together. We were able to
grieve together and after that we were both in the same mind frame that we were
ready to be parents. Looking back,
everything happened the way it was supposed to because 2013 ended up being a
difficult year for me. I lost my
grandmother who was basically my second mom and my dad got very, very
sick. That is his story to tell but it
was a very painful and memorable time.
In some way I cherish it because I got to spend a lot of time with my
dad but you never want to see your father in pain. I learned a lot about myself during that time
and once we were through the really scary part I was determined that now I
could focus on getting pregnant again.
We were back on a sex schedule, but this time I was intense
about sticking to it. There was one
night we were having one of those stupid fights where you just constantly
bicker and we were lying in bed and I announced, “I don’t want to talk to you
but we have to have sex tonight!” I like to think that was the night because
now it’s a hilarious memory. But who
knows, all I know is that I got pregnant and we did a happy dance in the kitchen at
5:30 am holding a pregnancy test.
Pregnancy after a miscarriage is tenuous and there is a lot of fear but
we had a great time and ended up with the most perfect little girl.
So fast forward to cancer time. Now we have a toddler who is hilarious, stubborn,
smarter than I would sometimes like and moving a million miles a minute. Having a hysterectomy is a lot like having a
baby. Doctors are not very nice to
husbands. They looked at them daily and
say, “No sex for at least 6 weeks, I’m serious.” It’s a broken record and in the hospital, I
promise you, sex was the last thing on our minds. But then you come home…and you start to feel
better, and if you are a research person like I am you read WAY too much on the
internet. One thing my doctor had said
to me a few times in the hospital that I didn’t really key into until I got
home was, “Call me if you start having any sexual dysfunction”. Feeling like crap, I blew that off, I had
bigger things on my mind. I don’t know
why, but one day when I was feeling better, those words hit me and I suddenly
had the realization that I was a thirty four year old woman who may not be able
to achieve orgasm anymore. That was not
okay!
You have to understand, I do have long term effects from the
surgery. The outside of my right leg is
numb and will be probably be numb for months.
So it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that I had nerve damage in
other places. Everything I read said
different things, because everyone has a different experience. People who had fibroids before their surgery
said that sex was ten times better, others said it was more painful.
I am happy to say that there is no damage, but it is
different. I am physically different,
there is no getting around that and menopause does a number on you.
I often forget that I no longer have a uterus. I see babies and I think about “when” I have
another one and then I remember that I can’t do that anymore. As an only child myself, I am perfectly aware
that it is a fine option, but in the back of my mind, I did always hope for
two. Feeling grateful throughout this
process has really helped me readjust when I start to feel sad, but not being
physically able to have any more children is going to take some getting used
to. Especially because that was a main
focus in my life for so many years. Sex
without concern or expectations is liberating and knowing that I won’t ever
have a period again is cause for much rejoicing.
But it’s a mixed bag.
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