January 21st, 2019 – it gets harder

Ok, so I left off at the recommendation that we see a fertility specialist… for the sake of this blog, I’m only gonna call it “the specialist” as I’m pretty sure I’d get sued if I listed them by name and said bad crap about them. We got our referral and anxiously (VERY anxiously for me!) waited to get our call for an appointment. In the mean time, the gynaecologist suggested that my husband get his sperm checked out, easy, painless, and would answer at least one question. So off he went to that magical room with the horrifically worn leather chair and the super old and wrinkled porn mags that he was too afraid to touch, and he left his deposit.

Yes, he did take a picture and send it to me. Although, the one he sent me had a hand drawn speech bubble that said “I’ve been waiting for you….”

Results at this point: So heading in to the specialist we knew a few things. My cycle was pretty regular in that it was the textbook 28 days long and I ovulated around day 14 every cycle. However, I had irregular spotting that NO ONE to date had been able to figure out. My routine hormone tests, conducted on day 3 and day 17 were always normal. I believed my progesterone was low, but when given oral progesterone to take in the second half of my cycle, nothing changed. Not even when my dose was doubled the next month. Then tripled the next. Now that’s not to say it had no effect. It DID make me a raging hormonal psychopath that would cry at the drop of a scarf (I know that’s not the saying, but I literally did cry because I dropped my scarf) while never taking away the spotting it was meant to remove. I felt hopeless. I felt broken. I felt like I wanted to die. I felt like my life was useless. I felt like I had to be being punished for something (slaughtering puppies in a past life is my current theory). But at no point could I logically step aside and reason that it was my depression, combined with the crazy pills that was making me feel this way. It simply felt REAL. Month after month I would feel like this and it would culminate with getting my period and feeling like the biggest failure of life. Which would simply launch me into another, deeper pit of despair and loathing my broken body. My period would end, and I would enter the next cycle with blind hope… and rinse and repeat.

But I digress. My husband’s results were borderline. No, he wasn’t exactly spermalicious, but he wasn’t ridiculously low either. He was right on the borderline of concern. So, all things pointed to: We should not be having such extreme difficulties getting pregnant.

Finally, our call to the specialist came. They requested that we re-do all of the tests we’d already done, but at their facility. So I re-did the day 3 and day 17 blood work, the invasive internal ultrasounds and ‘bubble tests’ (If anyone wants me to describe that I can!) and my husband did some blood work and revisited his favourite worn leather chair. When all of that was complete (took a month and change), in we went. I was scared out of my mind. We met with a student first, who asked us a long list of questions and then we finally met with the specialist. Who was a BITCH! She did not care about us, our problems, our fears, our situation, NOTHING! She told us based our results, there’s no reason we weren’t getting pregnant….. K…. great…. so why haven’t we in (at that point) a year of actively trying and longer of not being careful? “no, idea, you could try IVF if you wanna pay for it, or you can keep trying naturally, up to you” I’m sorry, WHAT?! What about my spotting? that’s not normal! What is that? Can that be related to why we aren’t getting pregnant? “I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure it’s not related” How are you a doctor?!?

Needless to say? We left that appointment feeling less than enthralled and with very little trust in our doctor. We slept on it for a little bit and then decided we wanted a second opinion. When I requested this second opinion, the response from my doctor was “I don’t do second opinions, if you’d like to see another doctor you may, but you need to drop me as your doctor first” well, SIGN ME UP! I was afraid to piss off someone at the only centre who could offer us help but I did NOT feel comfortable with her treating me as a doctor!

Now, it sounds like I made that decision easy peasy. HA! No decision I make is easy! I deliberated, weighed pros and cons, TORMENTED myself over this decision, even though I knew in my heart I did NOT trust her and would doubt every suggestion she made. Not what you’re looking for in a doctor!

Thankfully, the next doctor was more understanding to our situation (which, is apparently a lot to ask from a FERTILITY doctor!) More on that in my next post.

January 20th, 2019 – time to get serious

Ok, so now that I have the bones of this blog off the ground, perhaps it’s time I tell you a little about what pushed me to do this. Publicly declaring my mental health issues is NOT something that I would normally do! Well? Here goes nothing:

I am in my 30s, and have been struggling with infertility for 3 years. As I type that I am struck both by “shit, has it really been 3 years of this hell?” and “OMG, this has ONLY BEEN 3 YEARS????? FEELS LIKE A LIFETIME!!!!!” I have also struggled with anxiety and depression my entire life. As you can imagine, this is not the greatest mix of things to have going for a gal!

I would say that I was a high functioning anxious and depressed person. I was raised with a wonderful support group, but also to believe that you ALWAYS put your best foot forward. I would never let people see what was happening on the inside, because I had to be PERFECT. Depression is not something I would even admit to until about a year ago, at which point there was no denying it any longer. I knew I had anxiety. I knew it limited me slightly, I knew other people didn’t freak out over little things the way I did, but I learned how to make it work for me. It wasn’t easy. Did I miss countless school trips because I’d be so anxious about missing them, that my stomach would get sick thereby making me miss them? Yes. Did I fret and panic over every little decision I had to make? Yes. Living with anxiety wasn’t perfect, but I felt I had it under control. When I stressed about an upcoming test? I would use that nervous energy to study my ass off and ACE the damn thing. I was top of my class. ALWAYS. All the fidgety excess nervous energy that seems to endlessly there? I channeled that into sports and the gym and got into great physical shape. And the better shape I was in, the better I felt about myself, the more confidence I had and it was GREAT. So ya, did I stress and worry all the time? Hells yes. Did I think it was truly an issue that needed me to seek help? naw.

All that changed 3 years ago. My husband and I decided we were ready to start trying for a family. OF COURSE I immediately started stressing about my cycle, the food I ate, what I drank, the type of exercise I did, the amount I stressed, you name it, I worried about it. Like any good rule following freaker-outer, I made an appt with my doc after 2 months of unsuccessful baby making. I know, I know, 2 months is nothing, the average is 4 and that’s an average, but you see, my cycle wasn’t normal and I KNEW something was wrong. despite EVERYONE telling me to the contrary. Thus began by BATTLE with healthcare professionals and unbeknownst to me? My battle with my own mental health.

Now, let me say here and now that I have had trouble with select health care professionals, particularly ANY of the ones having to do with my lady bits and fertility, so I may come across as unnecessarily mean spirited towards them. My apologies to any one in this profession, I can only go based on my experience and to say that they were not particularly great would be an understatement. I am not trying to call out every doctor out there, that would be ridiculous.

Anyway, fast forward about 8 months, many fights, many scans, many blood tests, many hormone trials later, and the verdict was? “something is up, I have no idea what, you best see a fertility expert”. There was a brief feeling of “OMG I’M NOT CRAZY!!!!! I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!” which was immediately replaced with dread. The worst was happening. Of course I won’t be able to have kids. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. What do I do now?? My husband tried to calm me. But he just didn’t understand. I felt like I was freaking out all alone, that I had NO ONE who understood. Not even my partner, the one who wanted kids with me.

Little did I know I had NO IDEA what real trials still lay ahead.

My story continues in my next post – coming soon!

January 20th, 2019

Well folks, today I learned that I am HOPELESS when it comes to computers! Currently, I have the bare bones of a blog set up: Black and white, no images, hopefully working links, and a whole host of frustrations at how slowly this is moving BUT it is UP! Hopefully now I can start sharing my story, my struggle, my pain and my joy… next step? see if anyone wants to hear it….

Welcome to my Blog!

Thanks for joining me!

Here you will find my personal stories about dealing with Depression, Anxiety, Infertility, Marriage and life in general. All of this is an ongoing battle for me, which I deal with with a dark sense of humour, sarcasm, and generally questionable coping mechanisms. I’m hoping that I can raise awareness of what living with this is like, but also, I hope I can reach even one person out there who is struggling and feels alone. You are not alone. There are many of us struggling in silence. I hope you read my story and feel a little less alone.

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