October 31st – November 7th, 2018
To the windoooow (to the window)…to the wall (to the wall)…to the progesterone in my body fall (fall)… (Google: Get Low. Lil Jon. Except for my parents, in-laws, godparents, aunts, uncles, or any of my other respected elders. Don’t Google that at all. Explicit early 2000s song lyrics. I always listen to clean versions…yeaaaa, that’s what I do.) From Google: Progesterone helps to regulate your cycle. But its main job is to get your uterus ready for pregnancy. If there is no fertilized egg, progesterone levels drop, and menstruation begins. If a fertilized egg implants in the uterine wall, progesterone helps maintain the uterine lining throughout pregnancy.
The week after our first appointment with Dr. TT was a whirlwind of bloodwork, ultrasounds, HSG testing (that’s another post of its own) for ol’ Seven Eggs Martin over here, and Scott needed to provide a sperm sample (to be continued…). LOW, LOW, LOW, LOW, LOW was all I heard for a week straight after all the bloodwork and ultrasounds I had done. Low egg count, low follicle count, low progesterone level, low Vitamin D, the one test that came back as HIGH was actually bad and needs to be low so I’m now on medication to lower my TSH level *which* I will probably take this medication for the rest of my life. Fun times! From Google: Thyroid-stimulating hormone (TSH) tells the thyroid gland how much T4 & T3 to produce (whatever T4 & T3 are…do we have T2 because I want to be a Terminator at this point?!). If your TSH level is abnormally high (like mine is), it could mean you have an underactive thyroid or hypothyroidism. High levels of TSH increase your chances of miscarriage (good info to have! Give me the meds!). Dr. TT also said I’d probably lose some weight as my TSH level evened out so, hey, sure…less chance of miscarriage and weight loss…sign me up! I did bloodwork with my original L.A. gyno and none of this came back, but he might not have tested everything Dr. TT tested so I dunno. Scott had bloodwork done too during our first Dr. TT appointment and hadn’t received any calls letting him know his body was betraying the reproductive process. He hadn’t given his sperm sample yet, but all signs were definitely pointing to me as the problem with our procreation. (Obviously, I do not want Scott to also be a problem. I’m betting his sperm are like Michael Phelps and he can probably reproduce into his 80s.)
I. was. low. Outside of finding out I had Endometriosis (which I guess is Stage IV (Severe) from what I saw on my chart but Dr. TT never got that dire when he confirmed it) and that it was probably strangling the life out of my right ovary, nothing else in my body was working properly either it seemed. We had also done the genetic testing bloodwork during that first appointment, but wouldn’t get the results back for two weeks. Those two weeks fell in that super fun window between TTC and getting your period so I could potentially be pregnant already but wouldn’t know either way until I officially bought my ticket for the Tampon Train. Soooo, if I did get pregnant naturally this last round of TTC and *then* we find out we both have the genes for some horrible disease then WHAT DO WE DO?!?! The world was daaaarrrrk in my head. I dreaded seeing Dr. TT’s office number pop up on my cell phone with the latest test results and it happened while I was at work every single time. I’d rush into an empty office or conference room so I could privately hear that my womanhood was below average across the board. I’d return to my desk just wanting to pack up and go home for the day to curl up with Stout, a pint of Jeni’s Salted Peanut Butter with Chocolate Flecks ice cream (my frequent view pictured above), Scott, and our binge watch of The Haunting of Hill House. (Hmmm. I listed Stout before Scott in that sentence. I love them both and they are both exactly what I personally need throughout all of this and in life in general. But, Stout’s so darn cute! Ice cream is important too, but I felt like I needed a break between Stout and Scott in the list because their names are a bit similar. Scott is more important than ice cream…most of the time.)
You know when life hands you a big lemon (my body being one them…) and you’re like…”ok, cool. I got this!” But then, a few smaller, inconvenient, just annoying lemons are delivered on top of the big lemon and you don’t even really like lemonade?! During this week, I also decided to completely lose it on a really rude and awful Uber driver who insanely/dangerously tried to cut me off in traffic. Not my finest moment and a bit out of character for me (unless I’m in an airport or just *really* hurt by someone), but in the process of rolling my driver’s side window down to scream *a lot* of obscenities at said Uber driver, I accidentally rolled down my back window and it decided to NOT ROLL BACK UP! This was also midterm election week, and with our harshly divided bipartisan country plus the silly window plus work was crazy plus my low rank on the womanhood scale, everything just felt so dark in my head plus the freaking time change happened too so it was *literally* dark here by 4:30 PM. Minor inconvenience…it was just a silly window that has since been fixed and I have tuned back out of politics again (to wildfire coverage soooo…) but I had a lot of bad days/nights in my head that week where I cried in our bedroom (I still hate this time change though).
At work, I actively avoided talking to my coworkers and I pretty much kept my headphones in unless I was on a call or in a meeting. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. I canceled all social engagements (I’m kinda still doing that now…I talk to a lot of strangers at work all day so any talking outside of work just seems exhausting to me right now. I still like you all, I swear! I just don’t want to randomly cry in front of you), I let a lot of text messages go unanswered, and while I continued to look at my various social medias, I was doing it with a lot of judgment and cattiness (severe honesty here. Also, I’m sorry I was giving everyone social media side eye in secret).
I was mad. I was mad at my body. I was mad that the romantical stars didn’t align for Scott and me until our mid-30s. I was mad I wasted my 20s in relationships that didn’t work out. I was mad at others getting pregnant so (seemingly, in my head) easily. I was mad we waited to have a baby for a few years. I was mad that anyone had ever dared ask us if we were having a kid in the past. I was mad I got my period. I was mad that this period did feel particularly physically painful. I was mad that I didn’t know if it was actually painful or if I just had Endometriosis in my head now. I was mad that the stupid genetic testing results didn’t matter at this point now because I just got my stupid period. I was mad that I was already so mad because this was just the start of this potential fertility process. I was mad that there could be worse news ahead for us. I was mad my body was broken. I was mad Florida, once again, couldn’t get its voting sh*t together and continues to be a national punchline. I was mad that I was out of Salted Peanut Butter with Chocolate Flecks ice cream. I was mad delivery sushi is never as good as it is in the restaurant. I was mad at myself for eating all the ice cream. I shut down in every way I possibly could…except for cleaning, I’m always cool with my bottle of Windex.
I’m a Swifty and I sometimes do not use Taylor’s songs for their lyrical purpose, but I’ve latched on to “Out of the Woods” during all of this stuff. I guess I could use the verses to describe my relationship with my reproductive organs, but I mainly identify with the chorus, “Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?” …we aren’t out of the woods yet and Scott was about to enter his own uhhh…wooded…area of reproductive awfulness, but we’ll talk about all that fun next time. The title of the next post is a bit risqué and may cause some blushing over here, but it’s part of this process so it’s being included!