Tag: endometriosis

“Why don’t you just adopt?”

Try as I might, I won’t adequately address the many facets of this question in one post. I’ve been preparing this for weeks, but I know I’ll leave something out. It is my goal to be as edifying and biblical as possible.

This question (and many derivatives of it) is probably the most frequently asked question when someone learns that we are struggling. It’s usually asked in exactly those words, verbatim. I hate it. It is soul crushing, for many reasons. Reasons you probably never considered. If you’ve asked me this question, bless your heart. I know you didn’t do it with ill intent in your heart (most of you…). I know you are honestly just concerned. Curious maybe. I hope to answer this question in the post, and share why this can be a painful question when asked in such a flippant manner.

“Just adopt…”
We are well aware that there is a great need for more families to adopt in this community/state/nation/world. In fact, I’d wager that no one is stirred more regarding unwanted and parentless children than a couple who cannot have any. I’m sure you have a friend who has adopted. Maybe adoption is within your family. With that thought, have you discussed the actual process of adoption with these friends or family members? It’s not something you “just” do.
There is no Target or Amazon.com for insta-families. The shear amount of paperwork and approval process and travel involved is the only thing I can think of that is more stressful than actual fertility treatments, and it can take even longer. There is nothing easy about adoption.

As we face our struggle with endometriosis and starting a family, we are striving to approach it as biblically as possible. This includes the financial aspect. Long term, endometriosis can affect quality of life in a crippling manner. At times, it has kept me from maintaining a regular full time job. It has been years of treatments, doctors, surgeries, and medications. None of that is free, and none of that is stopping anytime soon. To protect our future and my quality of life, this disease must be treated as quickly and efficiently as possible. Pregnancy now is our final shot before scrapping the whole kit and kaboodle. There is no cure, only remission.
In addition, in our price comparisons and in our situation, fertility treatments, including 3 full rounds of IVF (egg retrieval, fertilization, implantation), is less expensive than one domestic adoption. Domestic.. Not even international. I could write another several posts on why this is so messed up. We feel very strongly about approaching this in financial baby steps. We will not go backwards and dig ourselves in deeper debt to add to our family. That is not being a good steward of resources. The steps we have taken so far and the coming steps are reflective of what is affordable and what is recommended by our doctors. We will always strive to be good stewards, both with our finances and human life.

Some derivatives of this question that I feel I need to address:

“If you just adopt one, that will take the stress off and BAM! You’ll be able to have your own!”
At no point is a child from adoption ever a “consolation prize”. At no point is adoption EVER a “last resort.” We will never use a child as a lucky charm. Again: I know you mean to be encouraging (bless your heart), and I know you probably have a friend (of a friend) that knew someone that did this and it TOTALLY worked… But stop it. Please stop using that logic. It is insulting to both the adopted child and the conceived child, it is insulting to the parents, it is insulting to those of us who desperately want to be parents.

“I get it. I don’t know if I could love an adopted child as much as I love one that’s mine.
I don’t think you get it. Bless your heart.
Adoption has been something that Mister and I have talked about since our first year of dating. It’s something we both want, something we both feel called to, when the time is right. When we adopt, it will not be a last resort. When we adopt, it will be our child in every sense. Needing to combine and duplicate our DNA has absolutely nothing to do with our decision to have a family. Our love will extend equally to our children, regardless of their genetic make up. Our Father has called us His own, our Jew and Gentile roots irrelevant. We will imitate our Heavenly Father.

Some of you, with whom I have an intimate friendship, have discussed this with me. You know my heart, and I know yours, and I thank God every day for placing you in my life. Most of you are not that “some of you.” Sometimes, this is difficult to discuss outside of very intimate friendships. I understand that it can be difficult to understand, difficult to relate to for you. I believe there is no way for you to honestly wrap your head around it unless you have experienced it. I pray you are never able to wrap your head around it. I hope that this has helped shine some light on our specific situation, and highlighted that people make family planning choices for very specific, very personal reasons. It’s not always easy. It’s very rarely black and white. Most of life is grey.
I hope this has brought great respect to those who have adopted and are in the process of adoption. We are all called to glorify The Almighty. Thank you for responding to the call of adoption, and glorifying Him in your journey. We are striving to glorify Him in our journey of infertility.

We are anxiously awaiting the day that he calms our storm and is glorified in the growth of our family.

Round 4

After a couple of weeks of waiting, we’ve finally been able to start our 4th and final round of IUI. My cyst ruptured without causing too many problems (besides several days of fever and general feelings of icky-ness). Medusa is no longer “a problem we need to be concerned with”, and my hormones have jumped back into gear.

After the general tests and exam last week, DocJax cleared me to start round 4. We’ve gotten our meds and Mister has been giving me my injections every night this week. This round, the hormone migraines have been particularly difficult to reign in, but I seem to be getting a handle on them finally. We go for a progress check (and more blood work, of course) on Tuesday, with a procedure likely on Thursday. After that we will enter the two week waiting period for the last time in 2014. As we bought alcohol swabs and band aides at the pharmacy (yay, shots!), Mister grabbed a pack of blister-healing band aides.

Go ahead and grab these since they’re on sale. If we get another negative, I know you’re going to need to run it out, and it’s going to jack your feet up when you do.

That right there, folks, is true love. He gets me. My blisters/calluses also gross him out.

This weekend was suppose to be our first weekend with no minimal traveling, and we were looking forward to fellowshipping with other believers today. Other than Mister covering the game at Mississippi State and my responsibilities at a downtown event, our weekend was more or less “free”. Then significant car trouble (quite possibly in a location one might meet the Devil for dealings) at a very late hour and a tow truck that was in absolutely NO rush at all (Hail State, y’all) changed our down weekend into an impromptu road trip two hours north in the wee hours of the morning for a rescue mission. We finally all got home and in bed at 6:00am this morning. Shout out to my baby brother for riding with me and keeping me company, even though he had to work all day today. I am far to old to be pulling all nighters anymore, and I’ve now got an appointment with my eye doctor. Night driving is a lot more difficult than I remember. We didn’t make it to church a few hours later. The sleep was greatly needed, but we really miss the rest of our local body of believers.

This week brings more Jackson, more needles and tests, more salmon (omega 3s, y’all), and more football. It also brings a quick weekend trip to Memphis to see the first baby I have prayed for since half of her DNA was contained in a mature follicle. I’m told her parents will be in Memphis too, and we’re pretty excited about that.

We have decided a few things in the last few weeks of dealing with the cyst. As mentioned before, this will be our final round of IUI. We are still hoping that this 10-15% chance will be our yes, and this will be our last round for wonderful happy reasons. However, we are planning for other outcomes. If this round does not work, we will be moving on to IVF in the spring. After speaking with our doctors in Hattiesburg and Jackson, we have decided that our funds are better spent procedures with better odds and more doctor-control. We will spend the rest of the winter saving and praying and preparing. We are also gathering all of my records and sending them to a group of surgeons in Atlanta that specialize in the removal of endometriosis, and we are having out case reviewed. The Center of Endometriosis Care does amazing work removing endometriosis from all areas of the body (more on my particular case in a different post) and we are looking forward to hearing ALL of our options.

We will be taking a (much needed) vacation in December. A vacation from work, and a vacation from infertility. This season of our life has been overwhelming and over scheduled (I’m looking at you, football…), and we are in serious need of a recharge.

We are a little terrified. We don’t really feel like we know what we’re doing. We are seeking God and we are following where we feel He leads. Both IVF and surgery come with some pretty scary “what ifs” and procedures. Both are much more invasive, time consuming, and energy consuming. We know that before this month ends, we will be looking towards more invasive medical procedures, whether that be pregnancy (!!!!) or IVF/surgery. You are probably starting to grasp why we need a vacation.

I have the best friends, the greatest family, and the most supportive spouse to face this with, and that makes things a little less scary.

Joy

It’s been a little over a week since we were sent home to hurry up and wait for my big ole cyst to rupture. So far, nothing incredibly eventful has happened. Since it didn’t rupture with this cycle, it’s likely it will stick around until my next one. It has not, however, been sitting completely dormant. Most days this week, I’ve been running fever. Sometimes at night, sometimes all day long. There’s been some discomfort, and there’s been some down-right pain, all associated with Medusa. I’ve been doing my level best to “take it easy” and “relax” and “minimize stress.” Those last two are nearly impossible, but I’m getting better at it. I think.

During one of my Sally Sad Sop times this week, I started thinking of all the things I miss because of this (endometriosis/infertility).

From a dietary standpoint, I miss bread. Good bread. Bleached, wheat-y, fluffy, glutinous bread. I also miss bright orange “cheese flavored” crunchy things. I’ve cut gluten out of my diet, along with other inflammatory foods, to help keep a check on my endometriosis and IC (both inflammatory diseases). It has helped tremendously.

From an entertainment standpoint, I miss wine. Not that I was ever a lush, but a glass with the girls every now and then does wonders for my sanity. I’ve heard its good for your heart. Whatever. It’s fantastic. I can’t do that any more, because fertility.

I miss running. My job is a little more demanding these days, and I don’t have quite as much time and energy for it as I used to. It’s also not entirely wise for me to do more than “moderate” exercise during treatments, and especially unwise to over do it with a time bomb on my right ovary. I miss being able to go out for hours and log several miles. It’s therapeutic. I’m still running, but anything over a 10k is unwise at this time. That makes me a little sad.

There is one thing that I miss the most, more than bread and Cheez-Its and Riesling and 13.1s:

Football.

Mister shoots football every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday from the end of August until Christmas, if we’re lucky. Sometimes on Sundays, too. WhoDat.. For most of these games, I’d go with him. It didn’t really matter who was playing. I love the game. I love the atmosphere. I love football. I don’t go with him this season, with the “taking it easy” and “relaxing” and what not. I’m supposed to rest when I can, simplify my schedule. The chronic pain and fatigue and flaring migraines haven’t helped my get-up-and-go, either.
My husband and I met on a football field. Our relationship started and grew around a battered Southern Miss team in 2008, so I particularly miss (good) Southern Miss football. I would tailgate for every game. It’s work, it’s exhausting, I love it. I’ve been to one game this year, and haven’t hauled my tailgate tent one time.
Take it easy. Relax. Don’t over do it.

In May, we moved from an apartment to a house. The move took us from the county to Midtown, 1.7 miles from Southern Miss (I run). We knew we were closer to both of our jobs, closer to everything really. The traffic is terrible. Last week, as I was feeling crummy about missing football, I heard a loud noise, loud music. I figured it was our neighbors being obnoxious. As I stepped outside, I realized how close we really were to the stadium on campus. I can hear every play, the band, the cannon… Quite clearly. It’s a beautiful sound. It’s like living on campus all over again, in the best way.
I’m sitting at home tonight, taking it easy, relaxing, not over doing it, missing the football game… But not. I love our city, I love Southern Miss, and I love that I can follow doctors orders and still have a piece of the game. God has given me a blessing in the midst of “can’t haves” and “can’t dos”. He has given me a way to enjoy a very important piece of myself, so that I don’t lose myself in the pain and occasional self pity/self loathing that accompanies this.

I will chose to find blessings in the little things, and I will rejoice. When I start to pout or wallow, I will find the blessings.

Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning!

(P.S. If Southern Miss can pull it out in the 2nd half, joy might come sooner for several of us.)

To the top, y’all.

My Helper

It is recorded in Genesis that God took from Adam a rib and formed him a Helper: Eve.

That is my favorite definition of a spouse. Some people say they married their best friend, their better half, their soulmate, etc. When my Mister and I promised to love each other for ever and ever, and signed papers with the great state of Mississippi, we married our Helper.

This post is a shout out to the Helpers that married endometriosis and infertility.

I cannot imagine going through endometriosis or infertility without him. He has been my Helper with this disease even before we were married. My first surgery for endometriosis was 2 months before our wedding. My next surgery was before we’d reached our first anniversary.

He has helped shoulder the daily (sometimes crippling) pain that my endometriosis causes. He can go down the “feminine hygiene” aisle and not flinch, he can even pick out exactly the right thing by himself. Every.Time. He understands my monosyllabic communication when my pain reaches a 9.5 on the 10 point scale.

When we first started talking about infertility, I told him straight up that we both had to be “all in.” This couldn’t be “my” thing. He accepted that, and has been amazing.

Our first two rounds of IUI, Sister Nurse gave me my shots. I knew that these hormones make me a less-than-rational reactor at times, and I didn’t want to have any reason to take that out on Mister. According to him, however,

If I can give the cat her insulin shots, I can give you fertility shots. It’s basically the same thing, right?

You can giggle. I did.

For our most recent round of IUI, he gave my shots of liquid fire ant Menopur, and even gave me my trigger shot. It may not sound like a super marriage bonding moment, but it has been. It’s intimate in a way that I find very difficult to explain.

He has held me and cried with me every time a treatment has failed. He has gone to every single appointment with me. He is on a first name basis with Doctor in Hattiesburg, and at DocJax he asks just as many questions as I do.

He is a “fixer”, as most men are, and I know it bothers him that he cannot “fix” this for us. Our first years of marriage have not been normal. No one mentions endometriosis or infertility in premarriage counseling. We’ve both learned as we’ve gone.

He’s not perfect. Neither am I.
He’s made mistakes, but you will not find a list of them on this blog, or anywhere.

Now, as I wait for the wrath of Medusa the Cyst, he waits. This weekend, he’s been looking for quick trips we can take to help alleviate the stress and take our minds of the (many,many) negatives. He is working two and three jobs so that we can continue to pay cash for everything and save for possible future treatments. On top of those jobs this weekend, he’s taken care of me with a several day-long migraine.

I am married my nurse, my therapist, my back scratcher, my ledge talker, my negotiator, my hand to squeeze, my personal comedian, my live-in cook. I married my Helper. He is mine and I am his.