A couple of Kevin’s coworkers sent us the most beautiful flower arrangement that did wonders for my spirit. It made me feel hopeful and gave me purpose. As soon as I started feeling sad I’d look at these flowers and be reminded that even though things feel so ugly, there is still beauty in the world. And purpose because it gave me someone to bake for. So, Kevin suggested we overnight them to his office. Suddenly I was baking for someone and not randomly showing up to events with bags and bags of cookies (don’t judge me). I wanted to scream THANK YOU for soothing my soul. So, I baked.
I baked and baked and baked. And then when I woke up I baked some more. The house smelled incredible. Sugar cookies, peppermint mocha cookies, salted pecan cranberry white chocolate shortbread cookies, “A Few of My Favorite Things” cookies, macadamia nut toffee, almond dark chocolate toffee, dark chocolate english toffee, hot cocoa with toasted marshmallow cookies, snowglobe cakes, etc. It started Tuesday afternoon and ended Friday afternoon. We over-nighted cookies to LA, took them to about every event we had for the next 3 days, and rolled in deep to our Friendsmas on Friday. I may have baked too many.
I did take a break from the kitchen and on Thursday we went and saw a Reproductive Specialist at Emory. She was phenomenal. She answered all my insane questions, like if my weight or me falling is what made the 2nd miscarriage happen. Just hearing her say no made me feel worlds better. All of our labs came back normal. Shit luck. They say we just have shit luck. Friday morning they did a sonohysterogram on me. Wow. Hello pain. They put you in stirrups, which if you’re a woman, you know this is already such an awkward position. WHERE DO YOU PUT YOUR ARMS?! As a side note, I find the amount of time to undress verses when they come back into the room just terrible. I always sit on the table for a minute, then I get bored and never know if I have enough time to go grab my phone from my purse that’s in the chair just outs of arms reach or not. So, I awkwardly sit there debating for a minute and the second I decide to grab it the door starts to open and I have to run back to the table trying to make sure my ass is covered by the paper sheet they give you. Anyhow, they take a giant q-tip and stab your cervix, I mean, disinfect your cervix with betadine, which all that probing already doesn’t feel great. Then they say, “This is what early labor feels like,” as they insert a catheter into your cervix and you think, “Oh, this isn’t so bad,” but little do you know that’s because they haven’t started funneling all of the water in the world into your uterus. As soon as the saline solution starts to fill your womb you think, “Holy shit. This is so bad.” and the poor girl doing it is a Fellow, so she’s new’ish and trying to comfort me despite the incredibly uneasy look on her face and then insert the giant probe. After me laying there wincing, squeezing my ponytail for relief and muttering obscenities, finally, they finish.
“Okay. I’m removing the catheter. You’ll need to wear a pad for the rest of the day because you’ll leak.”
“Umm..leak. Some of the saline will be absorbed my your body and some will leak.”
Sure enough, you do leak. Just terrible. No one tells you this shit upfront. Because if they had, I damn sure would not have worn yoga pants knowing I’d need to put a pad on. Ugh.
So, the findings: I either have uterine polyps or “pieces of conception.” W.T.F.? Pieces of conception? I am not okay with that term. “Yes, ma’am. Either uterine polyps or pieces of your dead baby are floating around.” Because that’s what I heard when they said pieces of conception. Long story short, surgery. I haven’t decided if I want to do the surgery or not. I mean, it’s scheduled for Jan 15th, but I’m 50/50 on having it. It feels more elective to me. They said it doesn’t cause miscarriage and there might be some correlation between uterine polyps and them preventing you from getting pregnant, but we’ve done it twice now and that’s a guess. The “pieces of conception” would come with my next period, so my body would handle itself. The polyps don’t actually hurt anything and many women never even know they have them.
So, why no surgery? I’m tired, y’all. 14 cycles of this and my body is just tired. Tired of drugs. Tired of living my life in cycle days. Tired of counting. Tired of being on a first name basis with my OBGYN’s office. Even as we speak I’ve just finished another round of fertility drugs and am spending my Christmas Eve at my OBGYN’s office checking my follicle count. I said we’d go to the end of the year and then take some time off. I meant it. I need it. We need it.
On a totally random note, here are a few things that made me happy, and will maybe make you smile too:
Oprah went on a field trip to Starbucks with us:
I made a bombass Super Hero cake:
Stend got me an awesome kitchen towel:
And all of this: