Candace- We have been in a race. It is not the kind of race that you can train for though. More like the kind where you are dropped in a steamy pile of sh*t and you need to find the end of the finish line blindly. I have been in a race between infertility and cancer. Let’s go back in time to last year. Feel free to check out that post called “The Big C-Word“. The cliff notes version is: Had yet another hysteroscopy –> Referred to an OBGYN Oncologist with a funny name –> found pre-cancerous cells in my dysfunctional, broken uterus –> treated with “the roids”, ate a lot, got a little fluffy –> then had a wicked painful biopsy. My oncologist treated me with a band aid solution with the sole purpose to give us enough time to give IVF one more chance. Well, we all know how those remaining chances went; lots of tears, lots of empty wine bottles.
Last week I went back to the office with painted ceiling tiles. The oncology clinic has hand painted tiles all throughout which I really like because at least you have something to stare at when you are in stirrups and the Dr. is doing his Doctorly business. Now, I consider my threshold of pain to be pretty up there, but intrauterine biopsies… no pain meds, yeah they are pretty effing painful. It is like a pap, but wayyyyyyyy past the point of no-return {insert flashback cringe}. After recapping my oncologist on my last failed IVF procedures he said verbatim “when are we doing this?’ THIS is referring to a hysterectomy.
My Dr. is certain that these irregular cells that keep coming back will develop into uterine cancer and I need to consider a hysterectomy sooner versus later. I am only thirty-effing something and here I am faced with having to decide on a date to let go of my womb. I have come to terms that I will not be able to carry my own child but damnit if there wasn’t that lingering .0005% tiny speck of hope that maybe, just maybe I would conceive on my own. Call me naive but every end of the month, I still hope. Talk about a bitter sweet couple of weeks. I have a surro-baby mama contract, but I have lost the race and will be moving towards a hysterectomy in the late fall. Not cool infertility, not cool.
Chris- Being in the OBGYN Oncologists office is double awkward. First of all, we are there because of the possibility of Candace having cancer. … Already speechless. On top of that, it is an OBGYN doctor’s office. I have felt very uncomfortable every time I have gone there because I almost feel like I am flaunting the fact that I am not the one being seen for the potential life-threatening condition of having cancer in a female reproductive organ. Just a few thoughts to set the tone for my experience:
The doctor, who is great by the way, kind of threw me when he was very nonchalant about taking out Candace’s uterus. Doesn’t he know how hard we have worked to start a family with THAT uterus? Doesn’t he know how many tears we have shed for that uterus? Doesn’t he know how many times we have willed that uterus to yield us good news? I guess that is a lot of pressure for any organ, uterus included. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. What is great about his position though, is that he is not encumbered by all of the time, money, and tears that Candace and I have invested in her uterus. No, he is only encumbered by making sure Candace’s lifespan is as long as possible, especially when it comes to her developing cancer.
We have a ton of research to do on this. We don’t have all of the answers, but we do know that years of exposure to all of the fertility medications probably did not help reduce her chances. Especially with the use of Clomid. While we were discussing Candace’s potential hysterectomy, she asked the question about the removal of the ovaries as well. She was thinking, well, you would be in there anyway and if I have an increased chance of ovarian cancer, it’s kind of like three birds with on suture-riddled stone. The doctor indicated that the vote was inconclusive regarding whether fertility meds led to various cancers so he was not firmly in favor of removing them. I was not for it at all. I had a sudden fear that if Candace got those removed, it would completely close the door on us having any more opportunities of having a biological child. (Let me interject with the caveat that, after we hopefully transfer our remaining two blastocysts to our surrogate, we do not have any intention of ever doing another stimulation and egg retrieval again, but you never know what the future holds). I just don’t know if I am ready to give up that possibility forever.
This whole situation sucks. That is a given. Here we are, in our 30’s and discussing something that rarely needs to be discussed at our age. It reminds me of when I go to my neurosurgery check-ups where I am one of the the youngest patients in the waiting room. You kind of look around and ask yourself, what the hell am I here for? Fortunately, we don’t need to worry about answering that question, if we have the willpower not to ask it. Instead, we ask the question, how are we going to get through this? Candace and I have tons of experience with answering that question. We will get through this, surrogacy, adoption, and any other challenge we are faced with by clinging to each other and relying on God for strength and guidance. It is not an easy path, but I don’t know of anyone that has had an ‘easy’ path, whatever that is. What we have is a path that we have been able to find humor and happiness in the darkest of places, and we will continue to do just that!
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YOu don’t know me, I stumbled upon this blog looking for someone who understands the sad path of infertility. Once, I found your blog, I immediately loved it, you both write with such candor about “touchy” topics (your Ultrasound Wand post, oh my, I laughed until tears came because I completely relate). I’ve already been praying for you two as you started to decide between adoption and surrogacy, but I will definitely up my praying as you go through this surgery.
Thank you so much for following our blog Sierra. Although we don’t know exactly who is reading our story, it gives us comfort to know that at least other people are aware of our struggles … and the occasional victory. When we hear that someone can relate their own journey to what we write about, even better. Thank you for your prayers and we will pray for you regarding your journey. Keep us updated on where you are if you wish. You can send an email to ourmisconception@gmail.com. Thank you again,
whew. That was a tough read. Im sitting at work fighting back stinging tears for you guys. Enough…its just enough. For your hearts, minds, Candaces poor Uterus…which by the way its personified in the last post makes me feel like I KNOW it 🙂 Like it deserves a place at the Thanksgiving dinner table each year, and its own Christmas card! Which hells YES it does! I am speechlss that you are faced with ANOTHER one of these ‘that doesnt happen to anyone I know’ decisions. My thoughts are as always with you both.
“Fortunately, we don’t need to worry about answering that question, if we have the willpower not to ask it. Instead, we ask the question, how are we going to get through this?” That was one of the best things Ive ever read..I re read it in your post a few times, and it truely TRUELY summarizes how my husband and I have felt about the last couple years…you guys are so good at capturing how I feel with YOUR words.
XOXO LYnn
Lynn, as always, you are able to make us feel great about sharing our story. The fact that we were able to capture how you and your DH have been feeling along your journey is a truly rewarding compliment! Although it is an unfortunate society that we are in, I am glad we get to share it with you. With regards to personifying Candace’s uterus, we had a going away party for Phil (that is the name I gave my tumor) after I had recovered from my second brain surgery. Although we have not talked about this, probably not a good time to just yet, please believe I will make sure that we have a huge celebration/uterus going away party for Candace after she recovers from her surgery. It is a terrible thing to need to have another human be so invasive as a result of biology’s missteps, but we are very fortunate that this was caught so early and that it was caught by trustworthy capable hands that are able to ensure that Candace will grow all old and wrinkly with me 🙂
I could try and push down the tears and write my own awkward/word-vomit/not-quite-right response to this, or I could just say ditto, ditto, ditto to what Lynn wrote above.
So, ditto. And, thank you for your strength, bravery, and transparency through it all. I’ll be thinking of you both!
NWB-IF- Let’s take a quick pause to say how much I love your blog and have been following your path as well. {Sending you the not-quite right response hug for your recent battle scars} Your situation is heartbreaking, my uterus is a bia, and infertility just plain sucks. Thank you for the love and the great comment! You know it goes: crumble, crawl out of your hidey hole, and find away to find hope. Its that perseverance for a family that keeps us going.
I love this blog. You have a way in describing the sorrows and disappointments without ever asking anyone to feel sorry for you. I am infertile myself and so much of this rang true for me. Thank you!
Beth
http://www.ivfgirl.com
ivfgirl@gmail.com
Beth thank you. Comments make our rainy day (true story, it is raining outside) but blog love from other bloggers/writers makes me have rainbows and smiles inside. We also checked out your site! Love it and congrats on your e-book. I’ll have to check it out.