I’ve been trying to track down my medical records for the last week or so from my egg donations. Dr. RE thinks it would be a good idea to look at those to help gauge what may best work for me with hormones this IVF cycle. The whole medical records situation is entirely too difficult though. Each clinic wanted to charge me $25 just to have the records taken out of storage, and then a per page rate after that. Beyond the cost, who knows how long it could take them to get the records out of storage in the first place.
I wouldn’t have been so frustrated if I hadn’t already been through this once before. My first doctor (who told me that my ovaries looked like “hell” while I was flat on my back in the middle of a vagisound) disputed the idea that I had ever been healthy. He proclaimed that my damage was so bad that there was simply no way I had ever been fit to donate my eggs. At his request, I had gotten all my records forwarded to him in November of 2008.
Much to his chagrin, he had to admit I had been a woman meant to make babies less than a year earlier.
That doctor was a jerk who played “wait and see” with me for far too long, and then finally said he wanted to cut me open and was pretty sure he was going to have to remove one if not both of my ovaries. I loved the logic there – let’s wait and see how bad this gets, and then when it gets too bad for me to handle I’m just going to take it all out so I don’t have to deal with you anymore.
I of course switched doctors at that point (and am still bitter that it took me 7 long months to build up the nerve to do so) and when I did, he transferred all of my records that were specifically from his office, but none of my donation notes that had been sent to him.
And thus, I found myself in the same boat of needing records now that I found myself in a year and a half ago. Things like that are frustrating – both for me and I’m sure also the records people.
Which is why I was going to have everything sent to me this time – so that I could ensure my medical file was complete and I wouldn’t have to go down this route with these clinics again.
I was all prepared to pay far too much for my records, when I got an e-mail from the agency I donated my eggs through. They had pulled my file and discovered all my records there. Everything I needed. Tucked away and waiting to be faxed to me for free.
Hallelujah!
I was so pumped that I wasn’t going to have to pay for them that I didn’t even think about how those records might affect me – until they started spitting out of my fax machine at work.
And suddenly, I was completely and totally absorbed.
I poured over every last page of those records. I strained to read every single note the doctors had written. I obsessed over the tiniest details.
I was searching for answers. Suddenly I was asking “why”.
I think I wanted to see something bad. Something that would point to why this all happened so quickly and so aggressively after my last donation. I wanted to see that they had spotted signs of endo during those procedures, or that something had seemed just the tiniest bit off. I wanted to know if there had been any hints of what was to come.
But there was nothing. No hints. No damage. No endo. No problems.
In fact, more than once in those notes the doctors performing the procedures commented on what a textbook case of female health I was.
And 6 months later I started getting more intense periods.
8 months later, they completely stopped.
11 months later, they returned so intensely I actually thought I was dying.
What happened? What explains how I went from textbook to far from it?
The truth is, I think it was the perfect storm. I think endo was probably always lurking in the background (given the information I found out after the fact about both my mother and grandmother needing hysterectomies due to endo – information I would have had earlier had my mother been in the picture, but what am I going to do about that now?) When I first started getting periods, they weren’t great. After 2 or 3 cycles I went on the pill when I was 13. I was on the pill for 12 years. I truly think it kept the endo at bay all that time and I just had no reason to suspect anything was wrong.
When I did my donations, there were heavy duty hormones involved. Hormones that are linked with increasing endo aggression (let me be clear – I do not believe that donating your eggs or going through fertility treatments could cause endo – I think I always had it and the hormones just amped things up a bit). After my last donation I chose not to go back on the pill. I reasoned that I was giving my body a break from all the hormones. I actually thought I was being healthy in this choice.
Again - decisions I may have made differently had I known I had a family history of endo, but I didn't know.
My first doctor hypothesized that my hormones never regulated after that last donation. He thinks they remained elevated, and also that I was likely dropping 2-4 eggs every cycle over that time - something that would have been prevented had I immediately gone back on the pill.
I think all of it combined is what resulted in this aggressive and unreasonable case of endo now. I don’t think anyone could have predicted it. I have no regrets and I don’t believe anyone is to blame (except maybe that first doctor, who was just a jerk and waited far too long to treat me). I just think it’s one of those things that happened.
But I would still like definitive answers. I would still like to know the truth for sure.
And I probably never will. So when will I stop asking “why”? When will I stop wondering?
I had to calm myself down today and remind myself yet again that endo has not ruined my life. That infertility is not the end of my world. In that brief moment I was becoming obsessed again, and I had to step back and rethink the grief I was allowing myself to feel.
I had to remind myself that I have actually gained a few things from this last year and a half too.
I have learned who my real friends are. Even further, I’ve learned that I actually have quite a few of those. There are people in this life who will always be around as long as it is beneficial for them; the minute the focus turns from their lives though, they're not who you thought they were. They won’t worry about your problems or console you in your grief; instead they will somehow make it about them - or they'll disappear completely. There are just some people in this world who aren’t capable of being there for someone else because they are too caught up in themselves. I had to learn that I had a few of those people in my life; but I also learned that I have far more strong, supportive, warm friends in my life who really do care about me no matter what - friends who want to be there for me and are actually more invested in this process than I would have ever expected them to be. That’s a truly amazing thing to have; to know that I have.
I’ve watched my faith grow. You wouldn’t think such a fall would bring you closer to God (in fact, you would think it would just make you angry at Him) but this did. It forced me to lean on Him. It forced me to rely on His plan. If it is at all possible, I am actually more calm and at peace today than I was before any of this started. I have more faith in Him and His plan for me than I ever did, and there is surely something to be said for that.
I realized how ready I am to be a mother. I always knew I wanted a house full of children, but I probably would have waited at least another 5 years before even thinking about it. I was having too much fun being young and single to spend too much time thinking about settling down and having babies. I was playing the field; being independent; falling in love with life. There is nothing wrong with any of those things, except that I don’t think they were all necessarily what I needed anymore. And now I know what I want. I know what I am prepared for. I know I am meant to be a mother – now, not 10 years from now.
My drive for writing has increased exponentially. I always wanted to be a writer, but I never wanted to put too much into it. I was afraid of failure. Afraid of putting my heart and soul into something and having it never make it anywhere. It was easier not to try. This journey has got me writing though. Not just here either. My freelance is going well and the book is half-way finished. A book. A book that could actually have my name on it. A book that people could pick up and hold. And I am here to tell you, that motivation would never have come if I hadn’t suddenly been driven to figure out how to be a mommy who can work from home. I wouldn't be writing with everything I've got if I hadn't been taken to this place I'm at now.
Finally, this entire fight has shown me how healthy I have become. The girl I was 10 years ago would have crumbled under this pressure. She would have caved to her old vices and hurt herself immensely. I’ve considered myself “healthy” for quite a few years now, but those years had been pretty easy/happy years. I was never really sure in that time how I would react to a real challenge; I was always a little afraid I would fall. I didn’t though. I didn’t fall. I didn’t return to those old bad habits. I didn’t even think about it. And now I know – no matter what, I can survive.
And maybe all of that is my “why”. Maybe there don’t have to be any more answers. Maybe that’s enough.
I don’t ever want to get so caught up in the searching for “why” that I fail to recognize how He has used what has happened here for His grace. I don’t believe He caused this to happen to me (sometimes I think bad things just happen), but I do believe He has a plan for how He will use it now. I do believe there is more that could be gained.
And all I have to do, is stop asking “why”.
ADSPACE
