Checking in with uterine news

Where else can you write something like that post title and get away with it?

Lots of places, actually. But I wouldn't think of doing it anywhere but here.

The news: It looks like my body has decided to help move along my quest for attaining my purest possible state of IF Experience Closure. (Let's see, do I want to shorten that to IFEC, pronounced EYE-feck . . .  or maybe IEC, which sounds a lot like "eek"? No time to dither about that right now, so I'll leave that for another day.)

The news, clarified: I'm having a hysterectomy. Soon.

Funny thing is, as I left the doctor's office with that plan of attack literally in hand, I felt considerably lighter than when I'd arrived. I even smiled one of those wholly spontaneous and unmanufactured smiles that only deep-down truth can instigate.

No, on this step, I'm not devoid of emotion from the opposite end of the spectrum. In fact, I've already felt all the emotions about the whole thing, and no doubt I'll continue to as I try to digest whatever the coming weeks of pre-op prep and post-op recovery will force me to eat.

Naturally, I'm going to have to blog my way through it all.

P.S. I know I said I was going to "debrief" and such QUITE some time ago. I've been doing that, and doing fine. But it's mostly been going on in my head or in handwritten notebook pages that nobody really ever needs to see. I've been in a good place, and I think a healthy one. I cannot, though, pass up the opportunity to bookend the whole experience I blogged about so faithfully with new blogs about this chapter. Said chapter has already started cracking open some much-welcomed doors to the rest of my big-picture happy life, and there's no way I can't share this part of my process — wherever it might lead me — in this space.

Tupac had a point

"You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation, trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened . . . or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on." 
—Tupac Shakur

For me, this applies to infertility and all of its effects on a person's life. Especially on a couple's life together. Those pieces on the floor run the gamut. Big shards you can safely pick up and discard; smaller slivers that slice open a vein before you feel the blood flowing; tiny particles that fly off in all directions and  show up later to abrade you — maybe you notice the grit when you roll over in your bed, place your bare foot in a shoe, or rub your eye with your fingers.

I do not have time to blog right now

So I think I will.

I'm contending with a ridiculous set of project deadlines over the next few weeks, and at 4:45 pm today I realized that — not only will I need to work ALL weekend (came to terms with that a couple days ago) — I must work tonight.

I'd already canceled my golfing plans, thinking I'd use this evening to rest up for the long (but, again, way too short) haul. But the joke's on me: I made precious little progress today. Hahahahahahahaha! At least, though, I came by my poor showing honestly. No goofing off, just couldn't produce.

Naturally, once I succumbed to feeling all the pressure, I thought, "Hey, I should blog at Infertile Ground! After all, I'm feeling inadequate. Like I won't be able to finish what I started. Just like old IF times!" (I should mention that I do know I'll meet my project deadlines. Pulling out all the stops works for that.)

Don't mind me. This compulsion to blog here is just a delayed reaction to seeing an ad for my old clinic a few weeks ago. The baby in it looked just like me.

I noticed the ad, thought my flash-crazy thoughts, and slammed shut the magazine. Then I instantly suppressed forgot it.

Well, wouldn't you know? A fresh issue of that periodical showed up in the mail this week. Last night while sitting down with it for a minute, I wondered why I didn't remember any of the articles talked about in the "Letters to the Editor" section. I recognized the cover image. Hmmm.

And then it hit me. Didn't even need to see the ad again. I knew that I'd cast aside the last issue for one simple reason:

That baby should have been mine.

Funny how these chance circumstances throw a sucker punch just when you think you've made it to the other side.

To be fair, I must stress that I have made it. I am okay. It's just that some bruises take a hella long time to properly heal.

Hair of the dog

Having decided that perhaps I've actually climbed out of the deepest ditch of grief related to all . . . this, I've recently tasked myself with curing what I view as my lingering IF hangover.

Doing so involves actively adding things back into my life that I've avoided for the past 7 or 8 months. I'm talking things that I associate with IF, treatments, The Clinic, and/or loss — but that still have a place in my real life, post bender.

CRAP I'M MAKING MYSELF DO:

Consult with the acupuncturist that helped me through the IVFs. I don't think I've blogged about this . . . but as my body chemistry tries to reclaim its formerly glorious groove after treatments/pregnancy, I've been experiencing bouts of pronounced hormonal hijinks that result in, among other things, regular pains to the head. It all started with biweekly migraines (December through March) before settling into a much more palatable pattern of lesser — but still sometimes sick — headaches: I can expect them at O time, the middle of the LP (hello, Estrogen Dip), just before Auntie F shows, and then one more time as AF sputters to an uncomfortable end.

The clinic's primary acupuncturist has agreed to help me ease into a new hormonal "normal." Mostly using (inexpensive) herbs, and also with occasional needlings. I've clearly gotten better on my own with time, increased exercise, and learning how to recognize/respond to signals in time to help either preempt or soften any head games. But, these spells (or whatever the hell) are disruptive to my typical days of otherwise feeling healthy, sane, and not so sad. Time to take care of it.

Get back to using a few, but not all, of the supplements I used to enhance fertility. Some I do not need. But others really help keep my perimenopausal (one can only assume) system on an even keel, and adding them back in — after going cold turkey, mind you — has helped with the headaches and, by default, my general mood.

Put a new mammogram appointment on the books. I canceled 2 appointments in 2008 due to pregnancy. Continuing to put off scheduling one now helps no one.

Do the business of life near both local clinic branches (when it makes sense to). That means eating at at area restaurants, visiting the acupuncturist's near-one-clinic's office, patronizing a favorite market, and feeling zen about driving through the 2 rather large swaths of the greater metro area I'd been completely avoiding.

Schedule more visits with family, both here and there. This is no small thing. I did visit my parents in March (which was difficult not because of them, but because it took SO much energy for me to act okay), but we need to put ourselves back in circulation as a couple, as our special brand of family unit. As it stands right now, some of our people are coming here in September, and we are visiting others in December.

Bow out or in, as I like. I'm cutting out a few things I took on during my flinging phase (which was good for me, btw) that I just do not want to do. I'm also getting back into a couple of things I gave up but came to realize weren't an actual problem.

Really plan what to do with that extra bedroom. You know, for a couple of months (okay, 4 or 5), my desire to sell the house was strong. It's bigger than we need and not of the style/location we'd have chosen had we known. But now is not the time for us to sell. I'm over the intense resentment I felt toward the house and ready to peacefully exist in it until it truly is time to move on. That room must be good for something.

Call the clinic to settle a couple of things. Namely, (1) to find out whether we have any sort of credit on account and how quickly a refund might be issued if we do (although I'm pretty sure we don't), and (2) to donate DH's banked swimmers to research or something so we can stop paying the storage fee.

File last year's freaking taxes. That's right, I got an extension. The 2008 filing will include big fat mention of our big fat out-of-pocket medical expenses. I couldn't deal with it in January and didn't feel that much better about it come April. I'm ready to clear the air of it now, though. Hoping Uncle Sammy won't get all curious. We certainly have all receipts and such, but still. That part makes me nervous.

Things to do, things to do!

And so May begins!

It's going to be a beautiful May Day in my neck of the woods (swine flu outbreak notwithstanding). The forecast says sunny and 71. Everyone say, "Ahhhhhhh."

I already stood on my deck for a bit during the 6:15 dog put-out, enjoying the fresh air and surveying my kingdom. That reverie abruptly ended, though, when I locked eyes with the next-door neighbor standing outside in his track pants. He bolted at the sight of me. Weirdo.

I'm fixing to stay "up" for this month I dread. To prep for a proper kickoff day, last night I completed the big winter-to-spring/summer wardrobe switchover: Out with the muted olives and rusty reds! In with the pistachio greens and bright corals! It's the little things, so often.

All this month, I will concentrate on infusing my heart, mind, body, soul, home, family, work, and world with positivity. I've been hustling that plan already, but I think this May calls for a little extra oomph. Daily. On purpose.

Will track my doings here.




Image note: May Day by Andrew Wyeth