Speechless

WTF is a phrase that usually denotes some form of speechlessness. I mean really, what sentence follows "What the Fuck"? Usually nothing. Speechless.

WTF?

My WTF consult after my 3rd failed FET in a row, pretty much lived up to its name.

WTF!

My RE, not Dr. Wow, but my new RE who I have now done 4 cycles with...

Wait I just realize that I haven't given him a name.

He's not Dr. Doom or his partner Dr. Darth Vader, not even close. He is too sweet for those names. He's not Dr. Period who turned into Dr. Bumbles. He's very professional  and he is not my Dr. Wow even though I might have just as big of a crush on him as I do have on Dr. Wow.

Hmmm...wait....now what does that say about me if the only doctors I ever seem to get crushes on happen to be my REs?

I only get crushes on doctors that are looking at my "cookie"?

My crush meter only goes off on the "downtown" doctor!

WTF!!

See what I mean!

Speechless!

What does one say after that?

I am not even going to begin to psychoanalyze that!

Anyway my new RE who I will call Dr. Sunshine...my new RE called me to go over my last failed FET and he basically said he had no idea why I didn't get pregnant.

He feels that I should have gotten pregnant and that over his years of experience as an RE the one thing that he sees that really ensures success is persistence.

Persistence?

Are you kidding me?

You are talking to the woman who has done 11 cycles!

WTF!

And I truly feel like I can't do one more cycle.

One more failed cycle might be the end of me.

But then Dr. Sunshine offers me a really great opportunity to do just that; one more cycle.

And just like the Godfather: it's an offer I can't refuse.

WTF!

I am dreading doing another cycle.

The thought fills me with anxiety and pain.

But I know that the only thing that would stop me from doing this next cycle, this LAST cycle would be if my adoption would come through.

So I started praying for that.

Every night I would pray for my adoption to come through so I wouldn't have to do another cycle.

And you know what happened...

Drum roll please...

My cycle has been delayed!  And I am not sure if it's even  going to happen now.

WTF!

That is NOT what I was praying for!

And now pregnancies are popping up everywhere!

The boards and blogs are on fire with BFPs.

Just about everyone is pregnant, including Adele.

Which of course fills my heart with that familiar ache and now all I want to do is cycle.

WTF!

Everything has just been leaving me speechless lately.

Everything has been leaving me saying WTF!

So when the Itch Scratcher called me the other day wanting to "hang out", really what was there left to say but sure, why not and WTF.

And hey, the kind of speechless the Itch Scratcher  leaves me might be just what the RE ordered!

A funny thing happened on the way to the RE’s office…

*I am going to put a little disclaimer on this post because I use the word “vaginal” a lot! I mean a lot!! So you have been warned.*

I had planned on continuing my exploration of the first question I asked on my very first blog post…

How did I end up here?

My first blog post briefly explored the possibility that ending my relationship with my High School Sweetheart (HSS) might have landed me where I am today.

And one year later for my blogoversary, I took that exploration a little further and explored “the one that got away”.

I told you the story of my sailor.

And to be honest I think telling the story of my sailor has been very cathartic for me.

I was ready to move forward with a salacious tale about the Breadman.

I promise you ladies it is a tale to be heard and I will continue it.

But in the midst of all this story telling I had 2 cycles cancelled, a surgery and then finally I started a new cycle.

And that’s when it happened…

When I started driving to Dr. Wow’s office for my baseline ultrasound, I was overcome with this enormous fear that something was going to go wrong.

I wanted to turn around.

I used to drive to Dr. Wow’s office with some kind of hope or excitement and a little crush but now…now it was total dread.

That’s when I realized something…

I realized I am suffering from Post Traumatic Vaginal Ultrasound Disorder or Post Traumatic IVF Disorder or Post Traumatic TTC Disorder.

Whatever you want to call it, I am damaged.

And in actuality I think that I am truly suffering from all 3.

PTVUD

It starts with Post Traumatic Vaginal Ultrasound Disorder because that is where all the bad news comes from.

The Vaginal Ultrasound.

On my very first Vaginal Ultrasound over 2 years ago, I was told that I had very little eggs left and given a “Practically zero percent chance of conceiving”.

It was the Vaginal Ultrasound that always made Dr. Doom let out a little grunt of disappointment.

Then it was the Vaginal Ultrasound that told me I had a cyst on my 1st IVF cycle.

It was the Vaginal Ultrasound that showed very few eggs for retrieval on all 3 of my IVF cycles.

It was the Vaginal Ultrasound that told me I had a cyst on my last 2 recent attempts to cycle.

It was the Vaginal Ultrasound that told me that my lining wasn’t shedding and I wasn’t baseline for both of my cancelled cycles.

And it was the Vaginal Ultrasound that told me I was going to miscarry.

Actually it was a total of 3 Vaginal Ultrasounds that I had to endure all telling me the same horrible news.

The funny thing is, I’m not sure if I ever told anyone this before but the night before that last Vaginal Ultrasound confirming my miscarriage I had a dream that I was at an RE’s office but it wasn’t my RE’s office from the time (that would have been Dr. Doom) but it was kind and gentle RE. And when this RE did my Vaginal Ultrasound he turned the monitor towards me to show me my beautiful, healthy baby.

But that is not what happened the next morning…

The next morning Dr. Doom’s partner Dr. Darth Vader callously delivered the heartbreaking news that I was going to miscarry via Vaginal Ultrasound.

So, yes I have PTVUD and although I am trying to make light of it, I don’t mean it in a humorous way.

*Although the word itself “Vaginal Ultrasound” is very funny!!

But you see I am a girl that loves and enjoys her downtown area. I can appreciate it for all its glory and I never knew it wasn’t anything but glorious until I met the Vaginal Ultrasound.

But now…

Now, I want to close down, downtown.

Every time they go in to take a look around something is wrong.

And that feeling of dread I had going to Dr. Wow’s...

It was unfortunately spot on and of course the Vaginal Ultrasound once again gave me bad news.

But Vaginal Ultrasound’s partner Bloodwork actually gave me good news so I will be moving forward with my cycle.

And that brings me to…

PTIVFD

Post Traumatic IVF Disorder.

I cannot get excited about this cycle.

I cannot talk about it.

I cannot share and I cannot even breathe the word “cycle” without that horrible feeling of dread creeping over me.

That feeling of doom.

That feeling of failure.

And that fear that I will go in for my next Vaginal Ultrasound and “KABOOM!!”

Which brings me to…

PTTTCD

Post Traumatic TTC Disorder

And this is the worst part or the hardest part for me…

I am angry and bitter.

I have no hope or faith.

And I don’t want to be this person and I don’t want to feel this way.

But I don’t know how to stop these feelings.

But I don’t want to do this anymore…

I don’t want to cry when I hear a friend is pregnant.

I don’t want to cry when I read a blog post about a BFP.

I don’t want the pangs of jealousy when I see a happy family; a baby’s picture; an ultrasound picture (that means the Vaginal Ultrasound didn’t let them down).

I don’t want to fake a smile, fake a laugh, fake excitement or fake joy.

Shit I have faked a few orgasms in my life (very few because my downtown is glorious but still); that was enough. I don’t need to fake anything else.

I don’t want to hide my fears, feelings, anger, jealousy or tears either.

And I don’t want that feeling of wanting to tell people to “Bite me!” or “Fuck off” when they are expressing what they naturally should be regarding cycling, pregnancy, family or their babies.

I want to share it with them.

I want to rejoice and be happy.

I want to have hope and determination.

That same hope and determination that has gotten me this far.

But I can’t for some reason. I feel like I am the one left behind.

Left behind to drown in my disorders…

And I never felt this way before.

I never felt this way Pre Vaginal Ultrasound.

Pre IVF.

Or Pre TTC.

It’s all post and it’s all traumatic.

Must come down…

As the 1 year anniversary of the day I miscarried approaches, I am trying to come to terms with loss and move forward on my journey to motherhood. By re-examining how I survived the past I am hoping to discover the strength to embrace my future. This is the past.

I’m pretty sure that if you had to describe hell it would be the time between your morning doctor’s appointment and the afternoon when the RE calls to give you your results. In that time the devil smiles.

The phone rang and Dr. Doom proclaimed that yet, once again, my beta more than doubled. The devil would have to wait another day to get his due!

Things were looking up. Many assured me that seeing a small pregnancy sac at such an early ultrasound wasn’t uncommon and that as long as my beta was doubling I was safe. I believed them. I trusted my heart. I knew at my next ultrasound I would see my beautiful baby. That whole week I celebrated. I bought little clothes and blankets and toys. I looked at cribs and googled ideas for the nursery. I envisioned my baby shower with Sissy L. I chronicled each shining moment in my pregnancy journal. I was looking forward to seeing that little flicker of a heartbeat on the screen…

I probably should have seen the writing on the wall but I didn’t. I knew I could get pregnant. I knew it in my soul but what I didn’t know was that I could miscarry. I truly didn’t possess that knowledge and when I was faced with the knowledge I had no idea how to process it.

A week later I went in for my ultrasound. I knew this ultrasound was going to be different. Dr. Doom would print out the picture of my beautiful baby and hand it to me. Or so I thought. When I arrived at the clinic, Dr. Doom wasn’t there. The Face Nurse told me he had been called away on a personal matter and that she would do the ultrasound. I was a little thrown off. She is not a doctor but I figured she knew what she was doing.

I stripped and skootched and got ready for the “probe”.

All I really remember from that point on was the Face Nurse saying “This doesn’t look good My Dear”.

Yes, she said “My Dear”. More than once.

“It doesn’t look good My Dear”. And then she said “There is no heartbeat My Dear.”

She removed the “probe” and I said up. Stunned and shocked. She put her hand on my shoulder and I wanted to smack it off.

I didn’t. I just sat there. She explained that I would have to wait for the doctor to call…the meaning of hell…the devil smiled…

She said that when he called he would tell me when they would schedule my D&C. As she walked out she said “Take as long as you need”.

I got dressed immediately and left. I didn’t cry on my way home. All I kept thinking was that I hope something bad happened to Dr. Doom and that’s why he was called away. I know I shouldn’t have wished that. I am not proud I did…

When I got home something snapped. I had messages and texts of excitement and promise from my sister inquiring how everything went. She kept calling. I picked up the phone and went off. I can hardly remember what I said. It was filtered through hysterical sobbing. It went something like “Aren’t you glad you kept calling wanting to know how it went? This is how it went…I’m losing my baby” and on and on I sobbed with unstoppable sorrow and uncontrollable anger.

I left day. Not physically but I left.

One of Dr. Doom’s partners called me. Dr Whatshername and all I remember is her saying she wanted me to come to the other office in the morning get confirmation of the results from a doctor. I freaked on her too but in the end agreed.

I don’t know if I slept that night. I don’t know if I ever stopped crying. What I do know is the next day I had to relive it all over again. I went to see Dr. Darth Vader.

Come to the dark side…

The drive was a blur. The wait in the reception area a blur. Going into the examining room, stripping and skootching a blur.

Then Dr. Darth Vader came in and started the ultrasound. He was mechanically. He was clinical. He pointed out everything on the screen. I didn’t look. And he said in that mechanical, clinical voice “As you can see there is no heartbeat. The sac is measuring a week behind and it is deformed”.

Deformed! I wanted to scream “You’re deformed and my baby is just small!”

I didn’t. I laid there silently as my tears quietly streamed down the side of my face. I sat up and then Dr. Darth Vader started giving me my miscarriage instructions.

He told me that I should miscarry naturally within the next 2 to 6 weeks. I was confused. I asked about a D&C. He recommended a natural miscarried. I was mortified by the thought of possibly waiting 6 weeks for this to start. He told me it usually happens within 2 weeks. I kept asking questions.

I asked “What if it doesn’t?”

He repeated “It will be between 2 to 6 weeks”.

“But what if this…”

“And what if that…”

He cut me off. Just like that, Dr. Darth Vader lifted his hand to cease the defiant questions and choked me silent by saying “Just call us when you bleed”.

I walked out. I never went back.

I week later on Saint Patrick’s Day I started bleeding. I never called.