Friday, November 20, 2009
Odd Dr. (Nathan)
I found the new gyne to be a bit weird, to say the least. He always looked a bit like a clown with the weird hair and he looked a bit frazzled. But he seemed to know what he was talking about. We went to see him a couple of times and I don't quite remember what was all said, but he was always to the point. In no time at all, or so it seemed, he wanted to cauterize the endo in Gloria. This some how didn't strike me as something normal to do but he was insistent that this would help. I remember after the surgery that it took Gloria a lot longer to recover and it hurt more than the first time. The first surgery, Gloria was hungry right after leaving the hospital. This time she hardly felt well enough to eat. But we waited and hoped it would help. I can remember at this time I felt guilty for leaving Gloria at home to fend for herself as I went off to work. I had Gloria's family and my family help in what ever way they could. I think Lavina even stayed a couple of days. I knew I couldn't do it all on my own. I came home for lunches to help and did everything in my power to make it right. I realize now, that for many years Gloria and I have been in survival mode. Working hard to accomplish our goals and dreams. This mode has continued for many years. We buckle down, and I encourage Gloria and we keep going. But as of recently, I have been finding we are having to fight less and working together more. We are changing, that or our survival techniques are changing. But either way, I found out that I need to change some of my ways of thinking, some of my thought patterns. I need to remember to keep encouraging, I need to keep being romantic, and keep on the ball or it will fall. It's when we least expect it that something tries to ruin what we have. I think I have forgotten some of this. I want to be a better husband and strive to make my wife feel desired, cared for, and deeply and truly loved. I am trying hard to find out how to do this. Not to become lazy in marriage and to keep Gloria on her toes, not sure how I will surprise her next with a bundle of my love. So I think I will go now and find some ways to to this. :)
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The Mistake
I had decided to start the Clomid with high hopes that this would be the thing that would bring us the baby that we so badly wanted by now. I was pretty nervous about the medication, and the results I was hoping it would bring. The Clomid was started and I anxiously awaited the sure fire side effects. After about 36 hours on the drug, intense hot flashes started kicking in, followed by an intense pain on my lower left side. It felt like my ovaries were certainly doing something, and that was a good thing in my mind. Every night for 5 nights I would take one more pill,which would hopefully kickstart my system and make me ovulate.
The drugs made me feel more and more miserable. The hot flashes, the intense emotional roller coaster amongst others seemed to be more than I could handle most days. Finally, it was time for another blood test to see if the medication was working. I went to my doctor, who was very happy to report to me that I had indeed ovulated and my progesterone levels were at a good level. We were happy, the doc was happy, all we could do was wait and see.
Around day 24 of my cycle, I started feeling nausea and my tummy was bloating at an incredible rate. I was very uncomfortable, but hopeful that maybe I was pregnant. I was actually happy with my symptoms, because they stayed with me 24/7. My tummy looked 3 months pregnant almost instantly and my nausea hit a new note of annoying. The end of my cycle came and by then I was incredibly miserable. I remember that this fell over a weekend, and Saturday and Sunday I just laid in bed all day with my Gravol beside me. I was so nauseated by this point I didn't know where to leave myself. I took tiny bits of Gravol hoping it would help, but not wanting to take too much in case this nausea was a result of a pregnancy.
By Monday, early in the morning, after being nauseated out of my mind for 48 hours straight, I told Nathan that I couldn't take it anymore. He called his work place and told them he wouldn't be in, he was taking me to the ER. My stomach was huge, and I could hardly walk, I felt so incredibly sick.
Over the weekend, I had convinced myself that if I could just throw up, my nausea would be better. But no, no relief had come in any form.
Nathan guided me out to the car and every second I felt worse and worse. Our hospital is a mere 10 minutes away if that. By the time we got to the first set of lights, I finally threw up and thought I would feel better. Wrong. Very wrong. After I threw up, my lower left side began to throb with a searing pain that I had never before felt in my entire life. I doubled over in the car, unable to straighten up from the pain and the nausea that came right back. It was then that I knew that something was very wrong, and that this was definitely not a normal reaction any longer.
We got to the hospital, and Nathan ran for a wheelchair, as I wasn't able to walk. I was already barely conscious from the pain and Nathan lifted me out of the car and wheeled me inside. I guess I looked as green as I felt, because the gal on duty had my papers ready in an instant. Everything was a blur, the pain was so intense and I couldn't move. My head felt totally detached as the world ebbed and swayed with alarming motion around me. A nurse came to do triage, took one look at me, grabbed my wheelchair and hurried us off to an empty ER room. Immediately I was put into a hospital gown and put on the stretcher bed. I was screaming now from the pain and the doctor was there in 5 minutes or less. He probed my tummy, and I kept screaming. Nathan answered some very quick questions and the doctor ordered an IV line be put in immediately. I hate needles, but I was so scared and in pain at that moment I don't even remember that IV. The doctor, bless his heart, ordered a good mixture of Gravol and morphine to be given right away.
Thankfully, it took the edge off the pain and nausea, and for the first time in 48 hours, I started to relax. An ultrasound was given and even more blood was taken as they tried to figure out what was wrong with me.
It was during the ultrasound that the technician got a funny look on her face. She told me to wait while she went to get the doctor. They came back and looked some more, taking a ton of pictures. I was so groggy from my medication, but I knew something was up. I asked the doctor what was wrong, and he said that my left ovary was huge with many cysts on it that had exploded. This was a serious matter, because if the cysts wouldn't have ruptured when they did, my whole ovary could have been lost. We also found out later that it had been a close call, and that my ovary had indeed begun to bleed on the inside. What a close call. We were thankful that even though my ovary wasn't perfect anymore, at least it had been spared.
I was ordered never to take Clomid again. It was to dangerous, even on the lowest dose. When I left the hospital that night, I had a new name to add to my growing list. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. This meant that even the lowest dose of Clomid was never going to be an option again. Now what? If that didn't work, what would?
I was transferred to a new gynecologist, that was practicing in our home town and the wait time was only two weeks to get in. After an exam, the gyne ordered strict bed rest for 3 weeks. My ovary was not healing well, it was still extremely swollen and the gyne was concerned that activity could still bring it to the bursting point. So, there I was, flat in bed, only allowed to get up to go to the bathroom and to get something to drink. It felt so stupid, being in bed with no pregnancy, no nothing. My body was exhausted from the fight with my ovaries, and I was emotionally finished. My big hope, my lifeline to a baby had been taken away.
This was only the beginning of a very long road to come.
The drugs made me feel more and more miserable. The hot flashes, the intense emotional roller coaster amongst others seemed to be more than I could handle most days. Finally, it was time for another blood test to see if the medication was working. I went to my doctor, who was very happy to report to me that I had indeed ovulated and my progesterone levels were at a good level. We were happy, the doc was happy, all we could do was wait and see.
Around day 24 of my cycle, I started feeling nausea and my tummy was bloating at an incredible rate. I was very uncomfortable, but hopeful that maybe I was pregnant. I was actually happy with my symptoms, because they stayed with me 24/7. My tummy looked 3 months pregnant almost instantly and my nausea hit a new note of annoying. The end of my cycle came and by then I was incredibly miserable. I remember that this fell over a weekend, and Saturday and Sunday I just laid in bed all day with my Gravol beside me. I was so nauseated by this point I didn't know where to leave myself. I took tiny bits of Gravol hoping it would help, but not wanting to take too much in case this nausea was a result of a pregnancy.
By Monday, early in the morning, after being nauseated out of my mind for 48 hours straight, I told Nathan that I couldn't take it anymore. He called his work place and told them he wouldn't be in, he was taking me to the ER. My stomach was huge, and I could hardly walk, I felt so incredibly sick.
Over the weekend, I had convinced myself that if I could just throw up, my nausea would be better. But no, no relief had come in any form.
Nathan guided me out to the car and every second I felt worse and worse. Our hospital is a mere 10 minutes away if that. By the time we got to the first set of lights, I finally threw up and thought I would feel better. Wrong. Very wrong. After I threw up, my lower left side began to throb with a searing pain that I had never before felt in my entire life. I doubled over in the car, unable to straighten up from the pain and the nausea that came right back. It was then that I knew that something was very wrong, and that this was definitely not a normal reaction any longer.
We got to the hospital, and Nathan ran for a wheelchair, as I wasn't able to walk. I was already barely conscious from the pain and Nathan lifted me out of the car and wheeled me inside. I guess I looked as green as I felt, because the gal on duty had my papers ready in an instant. Everything was a blur, the pain was so intense and I couldn't move. My head felt totally detached as the world ebbed and swayed with alarming motion around me. A nurse came to do triage, took one look at me, grabbed my wheelchair and hurried us off to an empty ER room. Immediately I was put into a hospital gown and put on the stretcher bed. I was screaming now from the pain and the doctor was there in 5 minutes or less. He probed my tummy, and I kept screaming. Nathan answered some very quick questions and the doctor ordered an IV line be put in immediately. I hate needles, but I was so scared and in pain at that moment I don't even remember that IV. The doctor, bless his heart, ordered a good mixture of Gravol and morphine to be given right away.
Thankfully, it took the edge off the pain and nausea, and for the first time in 48 hours, I started to relax. An ultrasound was given and even more blood was taken as they tried to figure out what was wrong with me.
It was during the ultrasound that the technician got a funny look on her face. She told me to wait while she went to get the doctor. They came back and looked some more, taking a ton of pictures. I was so groggy from my medication, but I knew something was up. I asked the doctor what was wrong, and he said that my left ovary was huge with many cysts on it that had exploded. This was a serious matter, because if the cysts wouldn't have ruptured when they did, my whole ovary could have been lost. We also found out later that it had been a close call, and that my ovary had indeed begun to bleed on the inside. What a close call. We were thankful that even though my ovary wasn't perfect anymore, at least it had been spared.
I was ordered never to take Clomid again. It was to dangerous, even on the lowest dose. When I left the hospital that night, I had a new name to add to my growing list. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. This meant that even the lowest dose of Clomid was never going to be an option again. Now what? If that didn't work, what would?
I was transferred to a new gynecologist, that was practicing in our home town and the wait time was only two weeks to get in. After an exam, the gyne ordered strict bed rest for 3 weeks. My ovary was not healing well, it was still extremely swollen and the gyne was concerned that activity could still bring it to the bursting point. So, there I was, flat in bed, only allowed to get up to go to the bathroom and to get something to drink. It felt so stupid, being in bed with no pregnancy, no nothing. My body was exhausted from the fight with my ovaries, and I was emotionally finished. My big hope, my lifeline to a baby had been taken away.
This was only the beginning of a very long road to come.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Life after...Surgery #1
July 2006 I came home to heal and recover from my first surgery. The doctor's news hadn't been all bad, he figured there was nothing significant enough to keep me from conceiving as long as I would get pregnant fairly soon.
So after some months went by with no results,I started to wonder if there wasn't another problem elsewhere. Even though we had only been trying for 6 months, my family doctor agreed to run a batch of tests for me to see if anything else was wrong. Dr. Bessie also decided it would be beneficial to run some blood work for Nathan as well. I asked Nathan to come to the follow up appointment with me because I was just so sure that the news wouldn't be good. I don't know if it was just my high anxiety levels talking or if maybe God was trying to prepare me. Perhaps it was a little of both.
We sat in the doctor's office that day with me holding Nathan's hand so tightly that I'm sure there was no circulation left and he left with nail marks in his palm as proof of my distress. Dr.Bessie came in and was her kind usual self. I held my breath as she went through Nathan's results first, telling him that thing after thing looked fine.
I will never forget when she turned to look at me, and said quietly, "Gloria, I'm afraid that your tests show that you're not ovulating at all. Your progesterone levels are nearly zero." In order to be considered as having ovulated, the levels in a progesterone test need to 13 or higher. Mine was at a two.
The news felt like I had literally smashed into a brick wall, with almost no air left in my body to draw strength from. I tried to absorb the news, that awful feeling of guilt coming over me again and again. Everything was my fault! It was MY fault that I wasn't pregnant yet! Which sins was God punishing me for? Which one of the many had finally tipped God off that I didn't deserve a child? Would Nathan still want to stay with me if I couldn't have a child for him? Would he still love me? I hated myself already, surely he would disgusted at my improperly functioning body.
The doctor told us that we should consider trying Clomid. An ovulation inducing drug that would stimulate my ovaries and very possibly draw out more than one egg at a time. She warned me of the side effects, but said it had helped a good deal of people get pregnant, with a high success rate.
I left her office devastated, as it seemed that my hope of becoming a mother was growing more and more faint. I cried for hours with Nathan and his mother trying in vain to comfort me. Besides, we were all sad about the latest news, I'm not sure that any of us really felt up to comforting the other. I screamed questions to God, not caring how loud I was or who heard me. I couldn't believe it anymore, my worst nightmare was beginning to be an actual reality.
A fertility drug? That meant that technically I was deemed as an infertile woman, unable to have a baby. The word infertile by itself is a cruel word. It wreaks havoc at the very deepest core of a woman's heart, telling her that she is worthless and not a true woman. I have been left out of things, been told I wasn't allowed to attend certain events because I wasn't a mother.
I have endured countless pregnancy and birth announcements only to feel like a failure all over again. I have watched a new mother cradle her newborn, unable to tear my eyes away while tears streamed down my face as I wrestled with anger, bitterness and jealousy, fear and doubt.
My tears are falling fast now as I recount these painful memories and the hundreds of hurtful, insensitive comments given by well and unwell meaning people alike. I have had people say that if they had to live my life, they'd rather be dead, or that unlike me, they were VERY fertile and could have a million babies if THEY wanted too. I have sat as people looked at me with disgust when I tell them that after nearly 4 years of marriage I still have no children in my arms. They think I love my career and money over babies. Oh,if only they knew the deep, deep pain that their words strike in my heart.
I have questioned my abilities to mother. Maybe God knew that I wouldn't be a good mother, and thats why He didn't allow me to have babies. Maybe I hadn't been a good enough wife to Nathan. Maybe I hadn't been a good enough example to my siblings, or a good enough friend to those around me. Maybe I just wasn't good enough. In any way. Some of these thoughts come back to my mind even to this day.
After we decided that I would take the fertility medication, everything seemed a bit more hopeful again. Surely after a few months this would work, and this nightmare could be over.
I took the pills as described and went through nearly every listed side effect and then some. Hot flashes every few minutes, emotional upheaval, severe uterine cramping and the list goes on. But, I was ok with that. By this time I had decided I would do whatever it took to have a baby. It would be my number one priority and I would make becoming a mommy my main purpose in life. By now, my heart and body literally ached to have a baby, and there was nothing I wouldn't do. There was no ocean I wouldn't cross. There was no mountain I wouldn't climb, and there was no valley I wouldn't go through.
So after some months went by with no results,I started to wonder if there wasn't another problem elsewhere. Even though we had only been trying for 6 months, my family doctor agreed to run a batch of tests for me to see if anything else was wrong. Dr. Bessie also decided it would be beneficial to run some blood work for Nathan as well. I asked Nathan to come to the follow up appointment with me because I was just so sure that the news wouldn't be good. I don't know if it was just my high anxiety levels talking or if maybe God was trying to prepare me. Perhaps it was a little of both.
We sat in the doctor's office that day with me holding Nathan's hand so tightly that I'm sure there was no circulation left and he left with nail marks in his palm as proof of my distress. Dr.Bessie came in and was her kind usual self. I held my breath as she went through Nathan's results first, telling him that thing after thing looked fine.
I will never forget when she turned to look at me, and said quietly, "Gloria, I'm afraid that your tests show that you're not ovulating at all. Your progesterone levels are nearly zero." In order to be considered as having ovulated, the levels in a progesterone test need to 13 or higher. Mine was at a two.
The news felt like I had literally smashed into a brick wall, with almost no air left in my body to draw strength from. I tried to absorb the news, that awful feeling of guilt coming over me again and again. Everything was my fault! It was MY fault that I wasn't pregnant yet! Which sins was God punishing me for? Which one of the many had finally tipped God off that I didn't deserve a child? Would Nathan still want to stay with me if I couldn't have a child for him? Would he still love me? I hated myself already, surely he would disgusted at my improperly functioning body.
The doctor told us that we should consider trying Clomid. An ovulation inducing drug that would stimulate my ovaries and very possibly draw out more than one egg at a time. She warned me of the side effects, but said it had helped a good deal of people get pregnant, with a high success rate.
I left her office devastated, as it seemed that my hope of becoming a mother was growing more and more faint. I cried for hours with Nathan and his mother trying in vain to comfort me. Besides, we were all sad about the latest news, I'm not sure that any of us really felt up to comforting the other. I screamed questions to God, not caring how loud I was or who heard me. I couldn't believe it anymore, my worst nightmare was beginning to be an actual reality.
A fertility drug? That meant that technically I was deemed as an infertile woman, unable to have a baby. The word infertile by itself is a cruel word. It wreaks havoc at the very deepest core of a woman's heart, telling her that she is worthless and not a true woman. I have been left out of things, been told I wasn't allowed to attend certain events because I wasn't a mother.
I have endured countless pregnancy and birth announcements only to feel like a failure all over again. I have watched a new mother cradle her newborn, unable to tear my eyes away while tears streamed down my face as I wrestled with anger, bitterness and jealousy, fear and doubt.
My tears are falling fast now as I recount these painful memories and the hundreds of hurtful, insensitive comments given by well and unwell meaning people alike. I have had people say that if they had to live my life, they'd rather be dead, or that unlike me, they were VERY fertile and could have a million babies if THEY wanted too. I have sat as people looked at me with disgust when I tell them that after nearly 4 years of marriage I still have no children in my arms. They think I love my career and money over babies. Oh,if only they knew the deep, deep pain that their words strike in my heart.
I have questioned my abilities to mother. Maybe God knew that I wouldn't be a good mother, and thats why He didn't allow me to have babies. Maybe I hadn't been a good enough wife to Nathan. Maybe I hadn't been a good enough example to my siblings, or a good enough friend to those around me. Maybe I just wasn't good enough. In any way. Some of these thoughts come back to my mind even to this day.
After we decided that I would take the fertility medication, everything seemed a bit more hopeful again. Surely after a few months this would work, and this nightmare could be over.
I took the pills as described and went through nearly every listed side effect and then some. Hot flashes every few minutes, emotional upheaval, severe uterine cramping and the list goes on. But, I was ok with that. By this time I had decided I would do whatever it took to have a baby. It would be my number one priority and I would make becoming a mommy my main purpose in life. By now, my heart and body literally ached to have a baby, and there was nothing I wouldn't do. There was no ocean I wouldn't cross. There was no mountain I wouldn't climb, and there was no valley I wouldn't go through.
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