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What-Ifs

For when the shitstorm of life happens, “Serenity now!”

Throughout my entire two years of trying and failing to try to have a baby, I was continuously placated by others. Everyone wants to be hopeful, and no one except me was grounded in the reality that things were not going well and it might not ever go well. Yes, I try to stay hopeful, I mean the word hope is included in the title of the blog. But just like our Declaration of Independence with the “Pursuit of Happiness” I also feel like I am sometimes in the pursuit of hopefulness. I’m not feeling hopeful right now.

I left the ER earlier this morning due to my staph infection coming back. When I first got staph I went to the ER due to my extreme pain and my leg turning a grayish black. The doctors were unable to pinpoint how I got it, other than “the bacteria lives on our skin and it gets into a cut.” That didn’t really help me to know how to prevent it, and sure enough here it is again. Due to the overflow in the ER I was treated in the children’s ward this second time. It seemed calmer and quieter on that end, and maybe that’s why I got better care this time. The doctor seemed more thorough and seems to think I might be diabetic.

Umm…please, not one more problem. I’m up to my eyeballs in health problems that have suddenly decided to come to the surface and wreak havoc on my fertility plans. They said my blood glucose level was high, and this could very well be contributing to my staph infections. They said I would need to do a longer testing/fasting session with my regular doctor to confirm. Staph infection, high blood pressure, possible diabetes, and cyst on my ovary preventing my scheduled IVF, what else is there? I feel as if this is, yet again, another one of those moments where I am at the precipice of achieving my dream, just to have the rug ripped out from under me. Why is all of this happening all at once? Why all right now? I just don’t understand it.

There is a part of me that feels everything is my fault. Although my pregnancy losses were trisomy babies and the outcome was completely out of my control, there is this illogical side of me that blames myself. I’ve been told by three doctors that it was not my fault and these things just happen. But what if all of these health issues cropping up now are entirely my fault, due to me being overweight. But I was so much heavier before, why now? Part of me wants to lock myself away somewhere in the mountains and force myself to live off the land so I could drop all my weight. Is this what it’s come down to, my weight issues interfering with my fertility plan? If this next suppression check doesn’t go well I don’t know what to do. My husband is locked in his time off for the year and cannot adjust it until next year. Basically if this next suppression check on Wednesday shows the same fat cyst I’m royally screwed for the entire year, and potentially forever. My low egg count has me on the fast-track IVF protocol and it’s a very real possibility that if I don’t do it this year I may never be able to have the opportunity to have a baby.

The IVF bill has been prepaid. I had the flights scheduled. The hotel was booked. Because the cyst is too big my IVF is pushed back a week. With me now on antibiotics for my staph infection there is a good chance those will prevent my BCP from doing their job to reduce the size of the cyst. I could bet money that my cyst will not be much smaller when I go in, because just like every ultrasound I’ve had except for one, all have been bad. The only good ultrasound I had out of eight (I’ve actually lost count) was when I was able to see my baby’s heartbeat, but when I went back they learned that very same day my baby’s heartbeat also stopped. That one time, was the only time I was able to see a flicker of life inside me.

I know myself really well, I know that health issues are triggering for me and my stress level gets high. Annoyingly, when my stress is high so is my blood pressure. The urgent care doctor and the ER doc said my blood pressure was high, which is the first it’s been high since I’ve been on medicine for it.

I feel like each bad what-if moment has always become my reality. Thinking positive given the shitstorm I’m in now is laughable. When given the decision to fake my way through positivity or instead mentally prepare myself for another letdown, I think I’m at the point now where I am wanting to choose the latter. Because without that mental preparation I’m going to be a heap of a blubbering mess. My old self would apologize for such a negative post, but I told myself I’m not going to sugar coat what it’s like. Right now, what it’s like sucks. Despite it all, and how this process really f***ks with my emotions, I am still unequivocally devoted to carrying on.

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