Conflicted

Up until yesterday morning, I thought I might be pregnant. And I wasn't happy about it.

And that upsets me.

It took four years, a misfiring reproductive system, surgery, insulin-controlling drugs, hormone injections, Dr. Miracle, and numerous artificial insemination procedures to finally have Miss-Miss and Bubba. It was a time of confusion, tears, wailing, and just general tearing of my hair. It was agony and I can distinctly remember a phone conversation with Ty-man in which I asked, no begged, him to divorce me so that he could find a woman in whom his seed could find purchase.

He flatly refused (thank FSM). And we had our beautiful twins. Dr. Miracle promptly put me back on the insulin-controlling meds and waited. He knew what would happen.

Me? Not so much. At least, not until the twins' first birthday when those three over-the-counter pregnancy tests loudly announced Whoa, Nelly! Lookee there! You gotta a bun in the oven! Whoda thunk it? Your f-ed up egg-makin' machines done fin'ly figured it out!

Let's just say that after J-man's weaning, Dr. Miracle put me on some strong-ass birth control. Really strong. Not only to keep another surprise at bay, but to also control my endometriosis. Now, for a woman whose teen-age, pre-oral contraceptive period days were legendary (Yeah, hi. Mr. South Charleston Kroger Manager? All those Kotex products on Aisle 12? I'll take them all. Yes. No, I'm not kidding. They'll be gone within 10 days. Seriously. Give them to me! OR I'LL BLEED ALL OVER YOU!!!) and for a woman whose 20s were spent on the phone with random gynecologists trying to convince them that Ortho-Tricyclene and Tri-phasil were the biggest jokes of the pharmeceutical industry because, control bleeding and cramps during one's monthly cycle? Total, complete, and utter bullpucky.

Now I'm taking Ovcon-50. Damn. My period? One day long. I barely even know it's happening. Cramps? What the Hell are those? Zits? Never heard of 'em.

And when my never happens anymore period finally decided to show up three days, instead of two, into the sugar pill row, I. Was. Freaked. I was worried that the Ty-man's super-sperm had somehow broken through the defenses of the strongest of oral contraceptives. That maybe taking pill #10 at 11:30PM instead of 11PM had caused that random egg to cut loose from my shriveled ovaries and make like Clint Eastwood out of Alcatraz (God, I love that movie).

And I didn't want that fourth child.

And I feel like such a hypocrite for knowing I don't want anymore children. I mean, come on. I used to rail at women like me who didn't want anymore when all I wanted was just one. I couldn't stand the women who were Fertile Myrtles, popping kids out left and right, complaining about the whole thing when there I was, begging for the sciatic pain. I wanted the fat ankles. I needed the stretch marks.

And now? I don't. Women like me used to piss me off. And now, here I am. One of those chicks rejecting the eggs I have left. Horrified at the thought of the pitter-patter of two more feet. Perfectly content with the three I have but not willing to make room for one more.

Because honestly? I'm crazy enough as it is. One more mini-me would send me over the edge.

And I feel guilty for feeling this way.

It's True Blog Love, People

Well, it's official. We are officially out-of-bounds, in unknown territory, testing out deep waters. You see, I hooked up with NATUI yesterday. No, not that kind of hook-up. Just keep reading.

Did we do lunch? Yes.

Did we exchange crazy kid stories? Yes.

Did we talk about the latest drama occurring in the People's Republic of Blogistan? Yes.

Did I go with her to her annual appointment with Dr. Miracle and stand by her side while she endured a Pap smear, pelvic exam, and vaginal sonogram to check the integrity of her ovaries since Mr. NATUI was unable to make the trip south (effing job) for said appointment and moral support?

Hell. To. The. Yes.

Yes, my friends and fellow citizens of the PRB, NATUI and I are no longer just blog buddies. We are more than that. We are true. blue. friends in fallopian tubes.

Allow me to explain. When you take a yearly trip to see Dr. Miracle, you get a hug, a kiss on the cheek, a question of "How are the kids/husband/job/you?", the usual breast exam, PAP smear, and pelvic exam. The difference between our Dr. Miracle and other OB/GYN docs is that your blood is drawn for a full hormone/triglyceride/lipid/insulin panel, and you receive a vaginal sonogram.

Yes, the dreaded vaginal sonogram. Not the pretty pelvic sonograms you see on TV where Insert Actress Name Here is placed perfectly on the exam bed, gorgeous make-up, cute maternity clothes, pelvic transducer gliding over her lubed-up belly, actor and actress smiling at the monitor and at the fake images of their TV show baby. Um, no, that's not even close to what I'm talking about. I'm talking about a vaginal sonogram transducer, a long, angular, plastic probe (covered with a latex condom and some lube - not kidding) that is not-so-ceremoniously placed in your vagina, up to the cervix (and sometimes past the cervix) and moved around to get perfect measurements and to look at your ovaries. That's the sonogram I'm talking about.

Now, some of you fellow bloggers who have been pregnant in the last ten years know what I'm talking about when I say vaginal sonogram. At times, when trying to ascertain precise cervical measurements during pregnancy, a vaginal sonogram is needed. I've had pregnant friends who wondered aloud, "Gee, Heather, I had a vaginal sonogram when I was pregnant with my baby and I don't know what you're complaining about. I didn't think it was all that bad."

Heh-hem. Yeah, um, be quiet and allow me to describe.

NATUI and I both suffer from endometriosis and ovarian cysts. Endometriosis makes the lining of one's uterus extremely tender. When Dr. Miracle inserts that vaginal transducer and begins looking around at your ovaries (this requires him to push that damned thing waaaaaaay the hell up your cha-cha) (yes, I used cha-cha-thank you Cartman), he's looking left, he's looking right, and each time he changes direction you. come. off. the table. Oh, yes. My last lovely sonogram was this past February. I'm due for another in September. I had more of these sonograms than I can count during my fertility treatments and both pregnancies. And every time Dr. Miracle changed direction yesterday while looking at NATUI's ovaries, she came off the table and I crossed my legs.

That, people, is love.

So, the next time you hear about bloggers getting together to share blog love?

Yeah, whateva.

Me and NATUI know what true blog love is all about!

First, I Would Like to Thank the Academy...

I have received my very first blog bling! Woo hoo! I'm so very excited to have received an award for my blog.

Ms. Not Afraid To Use It graced me with this wonderful award after we found out that not only are we sufferers of the dread endometriosis, but that we also have the same friggin' surgeon who removed our endo and helped us have kids. Talk about your seren-you're-kidding-me-dipity. Not only is this world small, it throws you for the coolest loops sometimes! NATUI is in the Atlanta area, visiting family, this week, and we'll be hooking up this coming Thursday evening. I will be sure to take pictures of this momentous occasion and post them here on Friday (as long as I'm conscious - she said something about sippable chocolate, hmmmmm).

All the women in my family have endometriosis (in fact, my aunt was unable to have children because of it) and I have been cursed with it as well. In addition, I have PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) which caused infertility. I went to see Dr. Ceana Nezhat (at the recommendation of a friend) and he not only diagnosed my PCOS, he performed the surgery that got me on the right track to removing my ovarian cysts, the endometriosis, and reversing my infertility. It's because of his work that I have my three beautiful children. So, that's my story and I'm stickin' to it!

Again, thanks hon, for my very first blog award, and I'm so very proud to graciously accept it! If you would like to see more about the award and my story, click on the award graphic above. And, by accepting it, it is now my job to pass it along to another worthy woman who has gone under the knife but cannot be kept down by her endometriosis. Here you go, Vonda! I love ya, doll and that sweet little Ella Rose is an absolute miracle!