By the time I turned eighteen my life was already sectioned into perfectly pre-planned parts. In two-year increments I had everything figured out with a mental picture that literally looked like this:
18-20: Figure out how to pay for college/ Get accepted into the education cohort/ Keep a 4.0
20-22: Land a student teaching placement/ Get engaged/ Find a job
22-24: Get married/ Buy a house/ Figure out how to be really good at the job
24-26: Finish a master's/ Travel/ Be selfishly-wonderfully- totally focused on the husband
26-28: Baby
One word. One fantastically simple concept that requires no further explanation. And at age 26, the plan was running ahead of schedule. Everything I ever thought we needed to do before we had a baby we had done and, in my mind, we were actually getting a jump on the plan by trying to get pregnant in the spring. After all, a June baby would be "most ideal" for work, but then again, I reasoned, a March baby would be okay too.
But see the problem with plans is that mine have a history of always working.
When we started trying to get pregnant, I had butterflies the entire first month. As ridiculous and corny as it is I could actually feel this baby coming to life inside me. I remember driving one day and feeling sharp twinges on the left side of my stomach and thinking, "Oh, that must be it!" I began a very strict diet that was suitable for a healthy pregnancy, began looking into daycares and began picking things out for the nursery at Target with the husband. I didn't need a positive pee stick; I had never been on birth control and had a period I could predict to the day every single month. There was no reason I wouldn't be pregnant...
...except I wasn't.
My period came and it honestly broke my heart a little, but I shrugged it off pretty quickly. It was only the first month. I was excited for month two. This would be our month, I could feel it. The problem was, I began feeling other things too.
The pain on my left side that I had been excited about a few weeks before returned and it was stronger this time than before. There was no rhyme or reason to when it happened- before ovulation and after. And it spread to my lower pelvis.
I didn't get pregnant the second month and, while I was frustrated, I didn't worry. Three. Month three would be our month. But one night during month three I woke up with sharp shooting pains on my right side- as if someone had punched me in the stomach and kicked me in the back. It shot down my right leg and it literally hurt to walk. I was pretty sure I had appendicitis and went to the doctor the next day. After some tests, it was discovered that a cyst on my right ovary had ruptured. My family doctor told me to schedule a follow-up appointment with my OB.
When I met with her she began asking questions about things I had never really noticed before. Did I have pain during sex? Did I have pain in my pelvis at times other than my period? Did my mom have Endometriosis? Did my aunts? One yes after another. She didn't have to tell me what she was getting at.
I have always known I had a higher risk of Endo because of my family history, but I knew I didn't have it because I never had extremely painful cramps or heavy bleeding- the two things I knew my mom struggled with. I had never had any problems and by age twenty-six I would have definitely experienced Endo-symptoms already. But as I explained this to my OB, she pointed out my other symptoms and clued me into a fact I didn't know- that Endo is typically diagnosed between ages 25 and 35.
The image of my timeline floated behind my eyes: 26-28 26-28 26-28
The OB recommended a lap to check for scarring from the confirmed cyst I had as well as to look for Endo elsewhere. I stumbled out of the office with pamphlets and a surgery date.
When I got home, I was pissed at myself. How could I let this woman talk me into surgery based on one office visit during which time she had never even physically examined me? To add insult to injury, I had only been trying to get pregnant for two months. How could she just expect me to choose surgery in lieu of pregnancy?
I called and cancelled.
Several more cycles came and went and each month the pain became a little stronger and a little more frequent every month. In the meantime, I met with a different OB who seemed more experienced and agreed that while I probably had Endo I should keep trying to get pregnant on my own before a laparoscopy. I liked this doctor's optimism and I liked that he did a physical exam to check for cysts and abnormalities. What's more, he didn't pressure me. Before I left his office that day I asked if I could have the surgery sooner, if I changed my mind about the pain. He was okay with it.
I started the new school year and felt optimistic about getting pregnant. But as I came up on month six, I couldn't ignore that the pain was becoming a more frequent thing. One day in September a student hugged my stomach and caused me to double over. That same day, I experienced the same shooting pain down my leg that I had when I had my confirmed cyst a few months before. Doubt began to creep in. A little voice began to whisper about things I hadn't really thought about in the year or two prior to trying to get pregnant- the unexplained tailbone pain that had started two years prior and, after several tests, was a mystery still, the constant fatigue, the memories of painful sex that I had dismissed at the time. Trying to put all of the pieces together began to keep me awake at night. What was wrong with me? Was waiting to find out allowing it to get worse?
So last month I caved and called my new OB's office to schedule surgery. I have a pre-op appointment to discuss my decision with him on Monday.
Quite frankly, I am terrified. I haven't been trying a full year to get pregnant. There is risk of complications with a laparoscopy. What if there is something wrong with me? What if this is just the beginning of it? I have family and close friends going through infertility. I've seen it as an outsider---what if it happens to us?
As I sit here typing this my stomach is cramping and my period isn't due for a week. This morning I felt the same feeling on my left side that I felt back in that first month, but this time, I know it isn't a baby. And while we aren't officially having trouble trying to get pregnant yet, I think of my mom trying to get pregnant for three years and my grandmother trying for seven and I want to cry. Most of all, I wish I had a time machine. What if I had said, "Fuck the plan" and we'd tried to get pregnant a few years ago? When my friends got pregnant right after college I shook my head and couldn't believe they'd sacrifice their 20s. What the hell did I know about anything?
I lost my dad when I was fifteen, I've lived through life-threatening cancer with my mom and I held my grandma's hand as she slipped away after a freak accident. But I think this- whatever this is- may be the scariest thing we've come up against together. How could all of these symptoms flare up the month that we started trying to get pregnant? This was supposed to be fun and exciting but instead it's turned into this huge question mark.
And all the while I just keep thinking that, statistically, infertility has to happen to somebody and every single day I just keep thinking, "Please, don't let it be us."
For now, I'm going to stay "face anonymous" and
instead post a shameless picture of our fur-kid.
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