Shit happens. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's effing awful.
Last month fell into the effing awful category. We had just started trying Baby #2 back in August after starting my new job as research faculty in January. We found out in early September that we were pregnant. Excitement ensued. I couldn't wait to tell E she was going to be a big sister, I had the t-shirt in the Amazon cart and the announcement all planned. All of the adorable details I forgot about or didn't think about the first time around were going to be documented this time with lots of suggestions from Pinterest. It was going to be great.
Less than 2 weeks later, after a very long and very hot day in the field collecting samples, I woke up bleeding. Not spotting, but bleeding, a lot. I freaked out. The husband was great and stayed calm and helped me keep it together long enough to get E to school. After that we went to the ER, where after much poking and prodding it was confirmed that I had a miscarriage. The ER doctor also informed me that I had a fibroid that needed to be looked at by the gyno. In typical ER doctor-worst-case-scenario fashion, he told me that fibroids are the leading cause of hysterectomies in women. Thanks. That's what I needed to hear. Not only did I just lose the baby I was so excited about, but now you tell me that I may lose my chance to ever have another. Eff you. I get that he was doing his job, I really do. My heartbroken self had prepared for what I expected and thought was the worst, that I had miscarried. The second part caught me totally unprepared.
The next day I went to the specialist to figure out the "now what" part of this. I met with the nurse, who was so compassionate and managed to both offer sympathy that made me bawl like a baby and then distract me by asking about my favorite thing, E. The doctor came in and gave me the details about the fibroid the ultrasound at the ER found. It was large, 12 cm, bigger than a softball and smaller than a cantaloupe (I may never eat cantaloupe again, I feel like I have been betrayed by that melon). Turns out that my uterus is the size of a 4-month pregnant uterus, but instead of having a fantastic little parasite in there, there's an effing fibroid, which may have caused the miscarriage but there's no way to tell. Because I want more babies, the doctor suggested a drug that will basically induce menopause in order to shrink the fibroid and reduce blood flow to the uterus so that when she fillets open my uterus to remove the fibroid, there will be less chance of bleeding that can't be controlled. If the bleeding can't be controlled, then it's bye-bye uterus and bye-bye chance of making more babies.
Best case scenario, the drug does what it's supposed to and surgery goes well and I get to keep my uterus. I then have to wait 12-18 months before trying to get pregnant again. This currently seems like an eternity to a woman who is more than ready for Baby #2. Maybe it'll get better...I hope so.
Worst case scenario, (turns out I have a hard time saying it out loud, and an even harder time typing it, I guess once it's typed there's no going back since once it's on the internet it's there forever) I lose my ability to have anymore biological children. This breaks my heart. I loved being pregnant and growing a human. I love seeing both of us in E. To, possibly, no longer have that potential is devastating.
After a meltdown, where I full-on ugly cried and tried to speak but mostly sounding like a dying giraffe, we talked and both came to the same conclusion that we would just roll with whatever comes our way. Our next baby will find us however it's meant to happen. Whether I grow a small human, or a small human finds our family, that will be the way it's meant to happen. While neither of us is religious, we do believe in a higher power and that life sends us down the path we are meant to be on. As a friend once said "men plan, God laughs", and that motto/wisdom has kept us going these past few weeks and will keep us going over the coming months and years, because...shit happens.
Update: Surgery didn't go as planned but it turns out that's good news for my uterus! What my doctor thought was a massive uterine fibroid is a mass behind my uterus in the retro peritoneal cavity and as far as she can tell is not at all messing with my reproductive system. Up next is an MRI to figure out where the end of this thing really is so it can get cut out. Which means no year waiting for my uterus to heal which makes me super happy!
Thanks to everyone for the thoughts, prayers, and offers for food, help, and shoulders to cry on. I have the best family and friends!