It’s the end of endometriosis awareness month and as we charge on in to a new year we must remind ourselves that no matter how bad the pain gets, how alone you feel, or how much you just want to give up that we are bigger than endometroisis. Sparkle on ladies, we will overcome this.
It’s a weird experience when the doctor says “everything looks great!” – I really don’t get that very often. Of course this time he wasn’t talking about me, he was talking about DH’s recent sample. “He’s got a whole lot of sperm here, I feel really good about this cycle.”
Unfortunately I can’t help but think “he’s still not the issue and it’s your fault you guys can’t get pregnant.”
For the first time in months I am happy to report that I actually have mature follicles, 3 big beautiful follicles, just days away from rupturing.
Thank you, Clomid, I needed this.
Dr. J wants to make sure the hubs is still in tip top shape so he got to share a little of his wealth this morning. He called me 20 minutes after his appointment and was already on his way to work – relaxed and without a care in the world. He got to take care of business and leave…. no needles, no pills, no ultrasounds, and probably most importantly, no one examining his privates for hours on end.
Why do men get it so easy?
Driving away from the wreck of the day
And it’s finally quiet in my head
Driving alone, finally on my way home to the comfort of my bed
And if this is giving up, then I’m giving up
If this is giving up, then I’m giving up, giving up
Redbook and Resolve started a fantastic campaign “The Truth about Trying” cataloging videos of celebrities and real women from across the world talking about their struggles trying to conceive. I am familiar with endo warriors such as Susan Sarandon, Padma, and Whoopi Goldberg but it was very interesting to learn about other women who for different reasons have struggled to conceive.
One of videos that stood out to me was that of Elisabeth Rohm, a gorgeous actress I have always loved, and her discussion on how it impacts one’s identity and sense of self as a woman. Honestly, I am the hardest on myself about this very issue – endometriosis and the toll it has taken on my body has destroyed my sense of self. I no longer feel like a “normal” woman.
Elisabeth says, “The ability to have children makes men and women divinely different and if you can’t do that are you a whole woman? How does it make you feel about your femininity? I don’t feel so beautiful, I don’t feel so feminine. I feel broken.”
I know that feeling, that same gut wrenching feeling you get every morning when you wake up and realize that you’re still as infertile or in as much pain as you were yesterday. I can’t do the ONE thing God created a woman’s body for. I don’t care what anyone says to me, I feel broken and empty inside – each and every day.
I really work at trying to overcome my feelings of insecurity and hopelessness and I haven’t quite figured out what works best yet. I have to remind myself daily that I am worthy and that I am just as much of a woman as others. It’s a hard process but I know with time, I will one day feel like a whole woman again.
My mom had a hysterectomy before the age of 35. Her doctors discovered a mass the size of a grapefruit and she had surgery just weeks later. I grew up knowing my mother had gynecological issues but she rarely spoke of the details. My mother is a private person and I assume she thought I would battle this disease in silence just like she had.
I have dealt with pain, heavy periods, mood swings, and hormonal problems my entire life and she never said a word. The closest conversation we ever was when she told me “just take a pill and try to sleep it off, that always helped me when it would get bad.” Deep down we both knew I had inherited the beast that took her femininity so young but had thankfully skipped my two older sisters. She didn’t want this to be her legacy with me.
When I went in for my surgery she finally said, “that’s why I had my hysterectomy when I was just a few years older than you are, endometriosis had taken over my insides and I couldn’t take it any more. I really hope yours isn’t as bad as mine was, I didn’t really have a choice.” I hope not either, Mom. You had 3 kids by your 30th birthday, I still need my uterus.
My mother may have passed on this disease to me, but I do not not see this as her legacy. Her body failed her just like mine is failing me. It’s science, it’s not us. I simply hope this doesn’t become my legacy either.