A Step Closer

I am pretty confident that I finally ovulated. I keep track on Fertility Friend (FF) although my temps are erratic enough that FF still claims I haven't ovulated. I've been doing this long enough to know that FF doesn't always pick up these things. Today is day 28 of my cycle and I either ovulated on day 24 or 25. I called my pharmacy and my trigger shot should be delivered this week some time. That is the only medication I need for this cycle since I still have left over Gonal-F and progesterone. The cycle is all paid in advance so the only money we have to put out this cycle is for the parking (and gas) each time I got to get monitored and the $20 co-pay on the trigger shot. That is one great big positive. Not sure how I feel emotionally about heading into this again. A couple days ago when I realized I ovulated I had this "Oh shit" feeling, like I had really wanted to get things moving forward but then when they were, oh shit. Right now I feel nothing. Maybe that is only because I just woke up and my brain isn't really functioning fully yet.

I still have a little end of my stitches sticking out of my side where my largest incision was. Also still have two little pieces of stitches in my belly button. The belly button ones can go any time now. My belly button is crusty and sometimes seeps a clearish liquid and is just annoying and slightly gross. Physically I feel great though. Ever so slightly tender still by where my big incision was which is made worse by the fact that my two kids and large dog find a way to step on me and kick me there multiple times a day.

It Sneaks up on You

Just sitting around waiting to ovulate. It is day 20 of my cycle and still no jump on my temperature. I usually ovulate around day 16-17. All signs are pointing to it happening at any moment. Although I am not surprised that things are a little weird this month since this cycle started from the loss of Emily the Embryo. Emotionally I have been doing good. My tactic of dealing with my emotions by keeping physically busy and not having time to deal with my emotions is working like a charm. Sure, not the best way to deal with things but that is just how I roll. I fully expect to be blindsided and have emotional repercussions for years to come but in the short term, things are fine and that makes me fine. It won't be the first time I have avoided dealing with my uterus issues. The day after I was diagnosed with my UU I started researching adoption. We had planned on adopting at some point, but talk about jumping into DOING something. We signed with an adoption agency less than a month after my UU diagnosis. I wouldn't change the way it worked out for the world, but then 3 years after the diagnosis I suddenly got the itch to get pregnant because I never truly mourned the loss of not having a biological child. And here I am now, dealing with this next chapter since I never dealt with it several years ago.

Anyway, none of that was really what I was going to write about.

Mostly I go through my days not thinking about what I lost or what could have been. I have lost track now of exactly how many weeks I would be, 8 or 9 maybe? Could it be more than that? I know my due date was supposed to be August twenty-something, maybe the twenty second. I can't even remember. Running through life and doing and filling my days with projects has kept me from falling into a complete funk. But there are still signs. Things happen and I suddenly I remember that I was pregnant, that I was supposed to be expecting a baby, that I was excited and scared that our entire little family was going to change. I thought I put everything out of sight. In one of my drawers is the congrats card a friend gave me, the one positive pregnancy test I have ever seen in person in my entire life, and the one lone u/s photo that labeled the gestational sac. I put them there together because I want to remember and be able to revisit, but I want it all tucked away too.

I sat down to read a book a few nights ago. I had been using an old grocery shopping list for a bookmark. I just happened to glance down and written on the list was "parents' surprise". I wrote it like that because I didn't want whoever happened to read my list to know what it really was. But I knew. I still know. That surprise for the parents were the bibs that I bought that say "I love my grandma". Those bibs are still wrapped up in Christmas paper and up in the attic. I put the gifts up there in a spot I would remember so I wouldn't be surprised when I came across them. Instead I got a big surprise when I looked at my bookmark and suddenly I was forced to remember what I don't have, the secret I never got to tell, the excitement on my mom's face when she heard the good news, finally getting to be in the club of people who talk about their pregnancies and births and their children as newborns.

Today I was cleaning out my purse. It has been a long time since I got around to doing that. Along with the loose change and all the matchbox cars I keep in there to entertain the kids in a pinch, there was a folded up piece of paper. I had no clue what that was. Then I unfolded it. It was a list of questions I took with me to my RE that I never got to ask. I had intended on asking him all kinds of questions about my pregnancy and the next steps and things I should and shouldn't do. Instead I was told that Emily the Embryo implanted in the most ridiculous of spots and instead of joy and anticipation, I would be faced with surgery and a healing process that could last a lifetime.

I could have lost it. I could ripped that piece of paper to shreds and ran off for a good cry. Instead I folded that list of questions back up and put it back in my purse. You never know when I might need to ask my RE those questions about what to do when I am pregnant.

A Couple Things

Yeah, still here. Just doing my typical staying insanely busy so I don't have time to think about crap that sucks. Been doing such a good job of it that things are starting to feel like they suck less. At least for the time being.

I had a lengthy conversation with my old high school friend and never once mentioned the fact that I was pregnant for 30 seconds. It wasn't that I felt I had to tell her just because she told me she had a miscarriage. It is more like I feel like I am lying all the time. People ask me what I have been up to or what is on my mind or what is new and all I can think about it is all the crap that happened to me with the pregnancy and surgery and loss. So what's new with me? And I have to say, "Nothing really." I also had dinner with a close friend last week. I was thinking at one point that I would just tell her the whole story because she really is a close friend. In the end, I didn't. I covered up and lied and left out parts which made me feel like a crappy friend. I guess this could all be avoided by just avoiding people. But I need people around me at this point to distract me from life.

I started charting again a few days ago just because I know I am supposed to ovulate soon. I would like to know when that happens so I have an idea of when my next cycle will start. That will help with planning around doctor visits for all the blood work and u/s. Also, need to order my meds a couple weeks before I need them and need to know when I will need them. I should be good with the Gonal-F. What I have expires at the end of February so as long as this cycle isn't totally crazy it should be fine. I'll just need the trigger shot and the progesterone. I should be ovulating today or tomorrow or something like that. Who knows really. I am not sure if my cycle is going to be all crazy since I was pregnant for two minutes and had surgery.

I had some follow up blood work done today. I had to have my glucose level checked since it was elevated last check and also had to get checked out for my white blood cell count. I went to a local lab to have the blood work done and they are supposed to fax the results to my RE. I should probably call them in a week to see what the results were.

I've been trying to take better care of myself. I started exercising and paying more attention to what I eat. I have gained a few pounds between the holidays and infertility drugs and being stuck in bed post-surgery. All my efforts apparently aren't worth it. I have gained 1.1 lbs in the past 5 days. This is usually what ends up happening to me. I try to lose weight and take better care of myself and somehow not paying any attention to my health works out better for me.

We booked our summer vacation. We are going with my parents in June. We could have gotten a much better deal had we gone in late August but I kept insisting that I wanted to go in June with no reason given to my parents why. I could be pregnant. I would rather be 2 months less pregnant at the beach. I guess the fact that I am thinking that I might be pregnant is a good sign that I am being hopeful. Or else I could be setting myself up for more depression if summer vacation comes and I am at the beach and not pregnant at all.

A Ton of Bricks

A friend of mine found me on facebook today. We had an odd friendship. We were competitive and catty in high school. Or should I say, I was competitive and catty towards her. Not really sure if it was reciprocated. Somehow we were still friends and became better friends in college. She went to a different college but come summer time, we hung out a lot. We talked a few times post college but eventually lost touch. Then in walks facebook.

She sent me a message that I read about 45 minutes ago. It was just a simple message telling me about her life in the past few years. But now I can't shake it. She has a daughter now who is about the age of DS1. She said prior to her daughter, she had a miscarriage and wallowed in depression and self-destruction (drinking and partying) after that.

At first I just wondered how I should respond. She gave me her phone number. Should I call or message her. But more importantly, what do I say? How much do I tell her? Really, how much do I tell anyone? It is a question I haven't figured out yet. I've been asking myself this question for several years now. Fertile or infertile, we had planned on adopting, just hadn't planned on JUST adopting. So, do I mention the infertiltiy? And now this new chapter of loss (and a completely bizarre lost that can't be just explained away with one word: miscarriage). There are people I keep thinking I should just tell the whole story to, tell them that I lost a pregnancy. Then things happen and I decide not to tell or I don't run into them when I had expected I would. I don't want to lie about what happened, or necessarily hide from it, but I feel at the same time I have to. It is like I either have to tell everyone or no one.

I thought I was doing good. Sure, I had an emotional train wreck not so many days ago but I felt that I was back on track. I felt that I wasn't wallowing in depression and self-destruction. But I am. In my own weird fashion that makes it easy for me to hide. Heck, so easy I was hiding it from myself.

Just feeling oddly bleak about the upcoming however long it takes to move forward with this. And I think I am just digging a deeper hole, like this will just get worse before it gets better. Next cycle we are going to try again. I'm back to my fearful way of thinking that it won't work out and all the emotions of loss and never having a biological child will just come flooding over me. With each failed cycle we are just that much closer to it being a lifetime failure. And there is new loss to be had. What if I do get pregnant? There is a higher than normal chance that that too will just end in loss. I can't even put into words what is on my mind. I don't know what is worse right now: the fact that I just realized that I am on the edge of the hole of depression and ready to jump in or that I know that the only way to get through all this shit is out the other side. Now I am depressed about my fertility history/future and depressed because I know the only way to stop being depressed is to endure it and let it run its course.

And I still have to figure out what to say to my facebook friend. How can I tell anyone what I have been up to for the last couple years without having to explain in some part my reproductive history? I'm really tired of my life revolving around my uterus.

Post-Op

I had my post-op appointment yesterday. Everything looks fine and is healing well. My RE said that we are good to go and can start up injectables next month. He also mentioned another alternative although he confused me. He said if we wanted to try on our own that we could use an ovulation predictor kit. When we got a positive I could come in and have an u/s done to see if I was going to be ovulating from the good ovary. I would assume we would then do an IUI because otherwise, why not just use an ovulation kit and have sex at the right time and have a 50% chance of ovulating from the correct ovary? I told him we are going to try the injectables/IUI two more cycles and hopefully that will work and we won't need to worry about the ovulation predictor kits. I also brought up my concern about doing another injectable cycle and having most of my good follicles on the left (tubeless) side. I told him I would rather just cancel the cycle all together than continue on with it just with hopes that the good right side would somehow manage to produce something worthwhile. I don't know if he really understood or heard me though. One good thing is that he said that my UU is really well developed.

I've been feeling way better. All that remains is a little soreness by my largest incision on the right side. I still have a couple little stitches sticking out of that incision as well as the one in my belly button. I am surprisingly good emotionally too. In the dead of winter, I always start looking forward to warm weather and all the things I am going to do when the snow melts and the temperature consistently involves double digits. The activities that I am looking forward to might not even be possible if I am pregnant. Now that our kids are getting more portable and capable, there are things that we can finally do with them that won't require loads of baby gear. There are definite advantages to being free of baby gear. So I am feeling better, more like I was before. If this works, good. If not, it just wasn't meant to be. That isn't to say that I won't be drowning in misery if I don't get pregnant, but at least I know now that the misery will be temporary. Our plan was to give this infertility treatment stuff a try and if it didn't work out to save up for another adoption. I'm not even feeling that now. But I feel no pressure to make a decision either. If I don't end up knocked up, it is going to be quite a while before we would even have enough money to consider another adoption. Maybe even so long that by the time we have the money, I will have no desire to be a mom to a baby and go through all that baby gear stuff again. There are deeper (probably even more selfish reasons) why I don't know if we should adopt again too, but I am not going to get into all of that now. It is just nice to know that I don't have to decide on anything now. We can just go ahead with our plans for infertility treatment and think about nothing else. Just one step at a time. I'm sure life will fall into step eventually.

Is there any chance you could be pregnant?

I was having an emotionally strong day today after my meltdown a couple days ago. It was a good thing too since the most frequently asked question today was, "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" I think I might have hurt someone if just one person asked me that question two days ago.

Tuesday night I was hanging out after a very acidic dinner and suddenly got really awful heartburn. I downed a bunch of Tums and went to bed. My chest hurt but mainly my one side hurt and breathing was incredibly painful. As the day went on yesterday, the pain in my lower right rib cage kept getting worse and worse. Moving certain directions hurt. Breathing in too deeply was like someone was stabbing me with a million knives between the ribs. I frequently would wince or just grunt or yell randomly when I breathed in too deep. I was with my mom a good bit of yesterday and she kept telling me that she would watch the kids and I could go to the urgent care clinic in town. It was a busy day though so I pushed on.

This morning DH didn't get up to go to work. I was like, wtf? He decided to pretend to be sick from work so I could call my dr to find out if they wanted to see me because he doesn't want me to be sick anymore and I was obviously in pain. Fine. I was kinda ticked at him. Not really, just mostly ticked because I was not feeling well and I just want to get on with my life and not be sick or unable to do my normal things I like/need to do. And ticked that DH once again had to rearrange his life for me.

I called my RE and the nurse said it sounded more muscular, like I have been sitting in the same position too much. That is what I thought too. She said she would talk to my RE and get back to me. She called back a few minutes later and said my RE wanted me to go to the ER to get checked out just in case it was something else, like a blood clot in my lung. I bargained with her and she said I could go to the urgent care clinic instead since it was cheaper with my insurance and they have an x-ray machine there. DH took over kid duty and I headed off to the urgent care clinic.

I paid my $35 copay. I waited about 5 minutes and went back. I did my best to avoid explaining my surgery in detail. The doctor came in who was pretty decent looking and personable. He asked me about my surgery and I said, "It's complicated. You don't happen to know what a unicornuate uterus is, do you?" He laughed and said, "No, which is why I work at [an urgent care clinic]." It was rather funny. Long story short, he checked my belly and said my incisions looked great. He had me give a urine sample to check for blood which would indicated gall stones. I told him there would be blood since I was having my period. There was. He figured I probably had pleurisy. He asked me if there was any chance I could be pregnant. I had a chest x-ray done, and the tech there asked me if there was any chance I could be pregnant. Then the doctor came back with bad news, because when it comes to my health lately that is usually how it goes. There was no indication of pleurisy. Normally he would have just sent me on my way but since I just had surgery, there is concern about blood clots in the lungs. I would need a C/T scan for that and would have to go to ER for that. Dammit! So much for saving time and money by going to the urgent care clinic. Now I had to pay two copays.

One advantage to living in a smallish town is I live close to everything. I was about 5 minutes from home so I stopped at home and got my book I have been reading and a snack. Then I drove the 10 minutes to the hospital. I got there around 10:30. Then I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

I finally got called back and waited. A nurse came in and asked some questions, like was there any chance I could be pregnant. Someone took blood and put and IV in me, right in my elbow pit so I couldn't really use my one arm. I had to give a urine sample again which ended up being difficult to manage the cleansing wipe and the cup and my pants while I couldn't really bend one arm.

I waited some more. I considered calling my mom to see if she was bored and wanted to come sit with me. I decided not to because it was sooooo boring that I figured I didn't want to punish her by having to endure it. At least they have TV's in the room. My phone wasn't fully charged to start the day and I spent so much time emailing people and messing around on facebook that my battery was getting low. I looked at the clock at one point and couldn't believe it was 2:30. A doctor came in for about 2 minutes. He wore too much cologne. I told him I just had surgery on my abdomen. He never even visually inspected my abdomen but just started pushing on it, right on my bruised up incision. I yelled "ouch" twice during that but it never fazed him. Meany. All in all, three different nurses came in and every one of them asked me if there was any chance I could be pregnant. Around 3 a nurse came in and said they needed to finish the blood work to make sure my kidney function was good so they could inject a dye during the C/T scan. Unfortunately it was going to take a little longer because their computers were down. Of course they were. Someone gave me some IV pain meds at some point but I never felt them. All the narcotics I have on my bathroom counter are way better than whatever stuff they gave me.

A little after 4:00 someone finally came to get me to take me for my C/T scan. The guy that was doing the C/T scan was all kinds of yummy... and mentioned his wife. Not that I am not happily married but it kinda ruined my fantasy. Plus, I know he was totally checking me out in my sexy sweat pants and hospital gown. I was looking fine. The scan guy asked me if there was any chance I could be pregnant and this time I even had to sign something saying that I really said that I couldn't be pregnant. C/T scan guy said they had to inject an iodine dye into me during the scan. They would do it quickly and it would make me feel really hot and like I was going to the bathroom, but no fears I would not actually be going to the bathroom. Sounds fun! They did some scans without the dye first. I laid on this moving table that went through this giant ring. At one point these lights started turning on. Green, then yellow, then orange, then red. There was this loud alarm sounding thing and this mechanical voice yelled at me, "DO NOT BREATHE!!" I thought a bomb might go off if I didn't listen to the warning! Then the voice said calmly, "You may now breathe regularly." Maybe the day had just gotten really long at that point. Maybe I was delirious from hunger since I hadn't had anything but a granola bar to eat since breakfast. I started cracking up though. Totally hot C/T scan guy came back and said he was going to inject the dye. He tested it out a bit since I had told him before that I had an allergic reaction to a dye injected during an MRI. Then he started the real injection and made a run for it so he could do the scan. I started getting really warm. Then the peeing yourself feeling came on. Only it really didn't feel like that. It was more like my clitoris was all hot. It was almost erotic. That could have been because a really hot dr just did that to me or the fact that I haven't gotten any sex for a couple weeks now though. It made me laugh though. Dr. Yummy came back and asked me if it felt like I peed myself. I said it did and kind of laughed. Then he wheeled me out to wait for someone to take me back to the ER. I waited and waited.

By the time I got back to ER the dr had already checked out my scan and gave me the all clear. I got to my ER room and the nurse followed in behind me and said she had my discharge papers and a prescription for vicodin. Yay! More narcotics to add to my collection! My diagnosis was pleurisy although I am still betting on muscle spasms from sitting in the same position all the time. I finally walked out of that place at 5:00, 6.5 hours after I arrived. Ridiculous.

My discharge papers are really funny though. They list all these instructions and things I should and shouldn't do based on my diagnosis. One thing it says is, "Do not drink and drive while on vicodin." Apparently it is okay for me to drink and drive when I am not on vicodin. Then after all this medical advice from medical professionals it says, "The [hospital] assumes no liability for the information contained herein or for any adverse effects that may arise, directly or indirectly, from the use of the information. Always consult a physician for proper diagnosis and treatment of any medical conditions." So they just gave me a whole bunch of instructions but they aren't liable for them... And better yet, I am supposed to consult a physician for a proper diagnosis? Wasn't the whole reason I was at the hospital in the first place to see a physician for a proper diagnosis??

In the end, good news. I don't have a blood clot in my lung. I'm planning on holding on to that news for a while. It was about my health and it was good. Maybe I am on the upswing now. It just all seems so ridiculous. Most people decide to have a baby, have sex, and end up with a baby. Not me. I have sex that never leads to a baby, decide to actually try to have a baby, end up with a whole bunch of tests and a surgery, shoot myself up with lots of drugs and let people take by blood on a daily basis, have some woman I just met inject sperm into me through a tube, get pregnant in the totally wrong place, have surgery to remove little Emily the Embryo, end up in the ER making time pass by checking out guys who give C/T scans. C'est la vie!

Blood

I got a call from my RE's office today. I had a feeling of dread as soon as I saw the number but then quickly decided they were probably just doing a follow up to see how I was. Not a follow up. My RE was reviewing some blood work of mine. I think it was all the blood work they did two days after I found out I was pregnant, one day before I found out that I shouldn't be happy that I was pregnant because it only meant pain and misery. My glucose level was slightly elevated (normal range goes up to 99 and mine was 109). Diabetes runs in my family. Lovely. Also my white blood cell count was elevated. They are mailing me a prescription to have those two things checked out again.

I had a boss back when I worked who never went to the doctor. He would tell me about all these horrible symptoms he had and when I suggested he go see someone about that, he would tell me that he would just rather suffer than have a doctor tell him bad news. I thought he was crazy. I totally get him now. I'm done with bad news. Just done done done. I still hope for the best, but I expect the worst.

While I was waiting for DS1's preschool class to let out today, I was listening to some moms chatting. The one woman is pregnant and I think she is due in 2 weeks. I started off all excited for her and interested in the conversation. Then, as always happens, each lady started talking about how when she was pregnant and how she looked and how she felt and things about the birth. I looked the other way. I have nothing to add. And right now I don't feel like I will ever have anything to add to that conversation. Most of the time this doesn't bother me. I have my own story about how my kids came into my life and I am willing to bet my story is far more awesome and interesting than theirs. Today not having a pregnancy/birth story made me feel like shit.

Emotionally, I feel like crap right now. Probably the worst I have felt since those couple of hours after surgery. I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm alone with no one to relate to. Physically, not feeling so hot either. I did some laundry today since it has been over a week since that was done. I thought I could handle it. I thought if I just went slow and steady it wouldn't be a big deal. About halfway through getting one load together I didn't think I could finish. I was exhausted. I hurt like hell. My whole self just feels spent right now.

The Clock is Ticking

My RE said to expect AF to show up within 4 weeks of my surgery. I was shocked when I peed this afternoon and realize that AF had arrived. That was fast. Then the cramps hit. I figured it would be one hell of an AF since my uterine lining was all big and cushy from the pregnancy and the progesterone suppositories. The cramps hit hard and fast. For the most part the cramps seem to be on my right side (where my UU is). I can feel... something... on the left where the horn was. Usually the pain where I feel like something in my abdomen is going to burst open any second doesn't hit until a day or two after AF shows up, and that pain is ALWAYS on the left where the rudimentary horn would be. I have always figured that pain was associated with the blood from the lining in my horn not having an exit point. That pain should not happen anymore. It better not.

I am pretty sure my RE said I could start trying again this cycle if I wanted to since the surgery wouldn't affect my uterus, just the horn. I knew last week when he said that, that starting the first cycle would be too soon. Just the thought of driving back and forth to the city to be monitored exhausts me, since I am pretty tired all the time still as it is. Of course there is the emotional aspect of it all too. I'm definitely not ready to attempt another 2ww at this time. I'd rather just sit back and wait for my body to find its new normal and for me to be clued in on what might be normal for my redesigned female parts. So, I guess next month/cycle I'll probably be ready to be back at it again.

Still Here and Dreaming

Still here. Still recovering. Recovery seemed to be going pretty well those first couple days. Then I hit a plateau. Or I stopped taking so many good drugs. Mostly I am fine except for this one small spot where I get these really bad stabbing pains. It started Friday night when I started coughing and with every cough, I felt like my insides were bursting to the outside. Saturday I felt worse than Friday. Sneezing is unbearable and coughing isn't much better. Today I am feeling better than yesterday, but still get those stabbing pains. It is in such an odd place too. My rudimentary horn was removed on the left but the pain is more on my right side. It isn't even by the large incision sight.

Speaking of incisions, my three year olds are obsessed with boo boos like most small children are. They kept asking to see mine when they were still bandaged and were really excited when I got to take the bandages off. They got little kid-friendly digital cameras for Christmas and started taking photos of my boo boos. I thought that probably wasn't a bad idea. So I took one with my camera. I've never had a flat stomach, but the swelling from surgery has made my belly far less flat. So much so, that I never really got a good look at the incision, since it is kind of hidden under the bulging of my belly that I can't see so well. After I took the photo and checked it out to see if it turned out, I was in shock that it actually was so colorful. I was able to check out the incision in a mirror because I was convinced that my camera was making things up. Nope, really was this colorful. And don't you just love my polka dotted underwear?



Tomorrow I am on my own with the kids. Not looking forward to it. A friend brought us dinner tonight which was awesome. I'm on my feet more today, but not really up for being on my feet and doing anything yet. Another friend is bringing dinner tomorrow. Been trying to wrap my head around the emotional aspect of all this. I don't think about it all the time. Usually just when I am falling asleep or in the shower and my mind isn't clouded by other things. Mostly I am scared. Scared of failing. It is odd because going into this whole infertility treatment thing, I wasn't so concerned about failing. I just wanted to try it because I never wanted to look back and wonder if I could have experienced pregnancy and childbirth if only we had tried. I figured if we tried and it didn't work out, then we would be blessed to have the opportunity to adopt child #3. But then the infertility treatments worked... kind of. And now all I can think of is how it just HAS to work again, how all I really want is to get pregnant and give birth and experience parenting a biological child. No longer does it just feel like something I am doing so I don't have regrets. Now I really really want it. It is a scary place to be. It might not ever happen again. We said we would try three cycles and one of those is gone. Two more shots is all we got. Part of me can't wait until we can try again. (Come on HCG levels! Drop so AF can show up!!) Part of me never wants to try again because if we try, there is always the chance we could fail.

I had a dream last night that hopefully is one of future prediction, and not just one grown from hope. I was riding in a rickety old rusted cable car that was pretty much falling apart with my friend who brought me dinner tonight. I suddenly realized that I was 36 weeks pregnant. My pregnancy had been so utterly uneventful that it had basically slipped my mind. I could go into labor at any time and have a perfectly healthy baby and I hadn't even prepared for it. I didn't have anything I needed for a newborn. I told my friend that as soon as we got off the cable car, I was going to Target and started making a list of all the things I would get there. All I remember from the list was that I needed onesies and a breast pump. My friend said I could just use her breast pump. Thanks. As far as what the rickety cable car meant, I think it is a symbol of this journey. The travel was rough and unconventional and not so pretty or fancy, but it would get me to where I was going. That cable car was actually pretty scary, but it did function. And it sure was nice to not be riding in that cable car alone. So, who knows. Maybe it is a sign of good things to come. Maybe next up in big moments of my life is something good, some good news that stays good. Maybe the next big drama will end up not being drama at all but for once will be something totally normal that women all over the world experience. Or maybe it will be a rough ride but it will still end up getting me to where I am supposed to go.

This Recovery Thing

Just hanging out on the couch. I have moved up a step from being confined in my room the past couple of days. I did the bed thing for a while. DH moved our glider into the bedroom for me to sit in and that was a nice change. Still, all the sitting and laying is making my back really miserable. I'm about ready to start popping Percocet just for my sore back. (I've been taking the Percocet leftover from my last surgery instead of the Vicodin prescribed this time around after the experience I had in phase 2 recovery.) The last Percocet I took was yesterday morning which gave me a high, so I figure I am probably not in need of them anymore. Still been taking the Motrin.

I pooped yesterday. Yep, while everyone else was out ringing in the new year, I was pretty darn excited for pooping and taking a shower. There is something about surgery (the anesthesia, the pain medicine, the being stuck in bed) that really really backs you up. I am tempted to go into details but I will refrain. Just don't say I never warned you. I had the most horrible constipation situation with my lap/hyst and was prepared this time. I just popped a laxative and after getting rid of that initial boulder that was blocking the way, things have been so much better than last time.

And yes, I showered. With my lap/hyst I was told to keep my bandages on and not bathe for 24 hours. With my rudimentary horn removal, it was 48 hours. I was really looking forward to that shower. I removed the bandages and did a quick inspection of my incisions. Then I needed to lay down and get something to drink. It really wasn't that bad but I was expecting four little 1/2 inch incisions from the laparacopy. I got three little 1/2 inch incisions and one that is about 2 inches long. I'm assuming the big incision is where they actually took the horn out of my body, although I'm confused. My horn was on the left but the big incision is on the right. Not really sure why they would have done all the work from the fine incisions near the horn and then pretty much have to pull the horn all the way across my abdomen to get it out. Perhaps the big incision plays a part in why I didn't get the shoulder pain from all the gas in my belly. Maybe most of the gas came out the big hole.

Mostly now I am bored. I got all our finance stuff caught up which was a big project. I've read. I've played stupid computer games. I've watched a couple movies. I was feeling a bit down about the pregnancy loss today, but mostly I have been so distracted by physical pain and doing my best to still spend some time with my boys, even if I can't move from the couch. I think the emotional aspect will come later. I'll actually a little scared about trying to get pregnant again. The 2ww will be horrible, knowing I can get pregnant and knowing if I don't get pregnant mostly on my mind will be how I was pregnant and had to have it removed. I didn't even "lose" my pregnancy. I can't even join that club that no one wants to be a part of: The Miscarriage Club.