Category Archives: fertility

Living the Dream

This was practically the mom-est thing I could be doing. Well, I could have been actually giving birth….that ranks pretty high. But I was exchanging some t-ball pants on the way to an OBGYN appointment. As I waited in line clutching the last pair of youth XS gray polyester pants, I had a mental flash back to my teenage self, waiting in a paper gown for my first pelvic exam. It was horrifying, but had I imagined my life now, I probably would have been equally dismayed. Surely there were bigger and better things in store for me than being just someone’s mom. You don’t even get to keep your own name! You are just forever known as “Piper’s mom” (or alternatively the room mom, team mom, special helper mom, snack mom, or volunteer coordinator mom.)

 

Fast forward to later that day and I am on my back wearing only a purple hospital gown and my own pink socks. In this pastel color scheme, sitting on an exam table surrounded by medical equipment emblazoned with drug logos, I feel like I could be in a feminine hygiene commercial. “I always wear Adora-Sorbant brand panty liners- just because I pee when I sneeze now, doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of style!” {Cue frozen smile to camera left}

 

Back to the socks; you fellow women’s clinic warriors know the importance of your own socks. They are almost literally your last scrap of warmth, comfort, and dignity during an exam or procedure. “Vaginal ultrasounds are the worst!” I think as I wince and try to practice mindful breathing to help me relax and ignore the pain. “It’s almost insulting that they hang a bird mobile over the table. I am 30! Not three years old!” I glare at the spinning birds and scoff at the idea of this being considered art. I hear the nurse. “Hmm…..you may feel some pressure….let me know if this is too uncomfortable.” I’m grimacing and breathe out a puff of air as a series of mild contractions start and then stop. I sigh.

“Pix or it didn’t happen!”

The diagnosis? A boggy uterus. I’ve never been boggy before… flaky, sure… but never boggy.

In another room my husband joins me and I smile tensely as he sits down. The doctor will see us soon. My mind is spinning; so many questions are swirling in my mind I can barely focus on one thing at a time. I try multiple times to start a discussion with Micah about future babies. “Will your life be incomplete without a son? If you talk me into one more kid, what’s to keep us from irresponsibility having dozens more?! Should I quit my job and think of nothing else but how I can serve my children?” I’m kinda freaking out and definitely feeling awkward in my cloth gown. I look over at Micah for support, imagining he’ll pat me comfortingly or say “I want to do what makes YOU happy….” But his eyes are closed. Hmmm….I eyeball him for a minute. His head slowly leans into his hand. “Is he asleep?” I think confusedly, “Of course not. I am naked, cold, and waiting for a man to come poke me in the vagina with a piece of metal and ask us about one of the biggest decisions our entire lives. I’m so keyed up that I woke up two hours early this morning. He can NOT be asleep.”

 

I continue watching as his head and hand tilt slightly forward and his mouth opens a bit. I fix a hard stare on him while shifting my butt on the crinkly exam table paper. He doesn’t even twitch. My left eye brow shoots to my hairline while my right one digs a permanent crease between my brows. I wiggle some more. Crinkle, crinKLE, CRINKLE!! Nary a flicker of his eyes. I let out an hearty  bird mobile-rustling sigh. I get nothin’  “Dammit to double HELL!” I think. “He’s asleep. ASLEEP! He’s waiting with me in the OBGYN’s office to hear about his beloved wife enduring extreme pain and to talk about fathering a child he will be responsible for for the rest of his entire life and HE.   FALLS.   ASLEEP.   WELL! I guess he isn’t worried about me. He better be worried about himself, now that I think about it, he might not GET the chance to father another child!”

 

I straighten up and smile as the doctor comes in. There’s a muffled half-snort as Micah wakes up and looks around slightly disoriented. The doctor and I begin talking over the options while I go on pretending Micah is no husband of mine, but just happened to wander in somehow.

 

Long story short (well, at least shorter), my doctor recommends moving up my pregnancy timeline and then having a hysterectomy. After everything is done, we exit through the waiting room, moving aside for more than a couple of baby bumps. I catch a glimpse of a dimpled arm snuggled around a new mom’s neck as she signs in. A blue-eyed man gently pats the knee of his pregnant wife; the diamond in her ring glints as she pushes back dark glossy hair and smiles at him.  I eye another gal’s hard belly and shiny coral pedicure and think, “She’s ready for her baby to come. She got her toes done.”

 

Micah and I hug in the parking lot. All is forgiven… I’m afraid and I need his support. I think I have more questions now than before we met with the doctor. Probably more than anything in my life, I feel that pregnancy timing is determined by God. My surprise birth control baby, Piper, is a testament to that. I don’t know if I will ever be brave enough, or just not afraid enough, to officially start trying to conceive. It seems so frightening. Not having a second baby would definitely be the safest and easiest option. But I don’t want to have any regrets at 75…honestly I feel like our family isn’t complete. But how do you know when you cross the magical line that divides carefree spontaneity and thoughtless, reckless actions? On the other hand, just because something is a challenge to me doesn’t mean I have to rise to it. It’s scary to think about either way.

 

How can I stand to be pregnant again and to puke at work and puke in the car and pee on the floor? How can I stand to never again have that singular intimacy that comes from “flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone” putting a tiny hand to my face when we’re alone in the night? What if I get pregnant and then just miscarry? What if there is something wrong with the baby? What if I have twins? What if I can’t carry the baby? What if? What if? What if?

 

I’m praying for direction; clear and specific direction. I am thinking of laying out a fleece. I’m praying, I’m thinking, I’m praying, I’m worrying, I’m praying, I’m praying, I’m praying…..

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