Thursday, October 6, 2016

Sex and Fertility

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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