Back on the saddle.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written on here. In a despair fueled rage I had what I thought deleted everything fertility from my phone.

I put fertility in the back of my mind and walked away from my dreams. So I thought…

Today, hubs and I are back on the infertility saddle. Back in May of this year hubs had his first ever semen analysis. The results were terrible. Motility at 22 and morphology at 0%. Count was really good at 210mill. We spoke to my RE on 8/14 and she suggested the next steps to be IUI. I’m not exactly sure how IUI will work with 0% morphology but I guess I’ll ask when we meet again. RE ordered another semen analysis to “compare” since the first one was done in another clinic. I don’t know how different the results will be but she seems to have some hope.

Estimated cost of the IUI.

Before the IUI, we will need an HSG which will more than likely take place within the next couple of weeks. Waiting on my cycle to start in a few days which is brought to me by…. BIRTH CONTROL. Yup. I am now taking birth control to “control” my PCOS. I wish it did more about them chin hairs though… js.


Update on ttc life? 

​I got a job now and started working the 1st of this month so TTC has been pushed out of my mind(thank G-d, I was sinking into a deep depression according to my mother). That was until today, when going through my pill drawer I saw that I had a bottle of provera waiting to be taken. In all honesty, after the whole incident with my cyst and losing my ovary I’m more than terrified of taking ANY fertility medication again. Terrified is just an understatment of how I actually feel. The fertility clinic has actually not even called me to check up on me or anything. (How nice?) Actually, they did check on me a few times, but not about my health, it was to see when I would be paying them back for their services. They, of course, make enough money to not give a flying fuck whether or not I show up again since they are the only option in town. I’m not really sure what’s going to happen with hubs and I’s dream to be parents. He is still hopeful and consumed in denial as he was when we started our journey back on August 16th of 2015.  

   I believe it was friday night? Technically saturday around 3-4am I woke up with an odd feeling. I turned to hubs, said “I dont feel good, I think I’m going to throw up.”  I hadnt finished those words yet when I feel myself run to the bathroom (which thank G-d is 4 feet away from me) and threw up all over the toilet. Inside and out. I did another round of vomiting a few hours later followed with heavy (sorry for the tmi..but later you will see why its kinda important?) diarrhea all night. Saturday throughout the day, let’s say, I became one with my bed and frequent visitor with the toilet. I had a full-on headache and major diarrhea(I’m sure it was due to the undercooked steak I had friday for lunch at work), but yea, apparently both my mother and husband were prompted to ask if I was pregnant due to the fact that I threw up. If you know me, I have a strong stomach. When I mean strong, I mean the type of strong to see human brain splatter and probably make a comment on how it looks like uncooked chicken fat (sorry if I’ve messed chicken up for anyone, I graduated paramedic school and have seen many things I wouldn’t have survived without a gruesome sense of humor and strong stomach). Thing is, having a strong stomach doesnt really fall into the category on options as to why I threw up and when did diarrhea becomea pregnancy symptom? Wouldnt I be constipated if anything?. Vomiting is just a very, very rare occurrence for me. Last time I threw up was in november as I came off of the anesthesia. I am not pregnant. I wish, but I’m not.  

    Husband’s mom called not long ago and asked us how we were doing . She told us “take care of the baby please!” as we were hanging up. I just looked at hubs in a confused face and he just shrugged at me not knowing what she was talking about. We ignored it and hung up. I now just try to steer away from my hubs when I know he is on the phone with his family in fear that I will be reminded once more. At work, just so happens that everytime a pregnant woman comes in, or people with children come in, I’m the one who’s usually available to help out(gee, thanks destiny? G-d? Whoever loves to see me in pain?). Their kids try talking to me and other coworkers come to say “oh how cute blah blah blah” and I’m the bitter bitch sitting there grimacing or being awkward because of my own pains. I dont even know how to act around kids anymore. As they leave I’m left holding back tears because just sight of children brings back memories of dreams I once had. That isnt even all, coworkers bring their kids to work sometimes and as their introducing their families and children I cannot help but feel my face give them a glower look. I dont mean to, but I guess “bitter bitch” has become my personality when encountered by children and pregnant women.

     The  other day in the car I was talking to hubs about something, I’m not really sure what it was but he just said, “I love being a father to Nebula(our dog)” and I literally just burst in tears. Like is this how desperate we have become? No offence to my baby nebula but the first thing I thought was, “Us not having the choice to have kids made us desperately substitute it for an animal?”. In all technicalities, yes, she is an animal.  

Isnt she the darnest in her little dress?


     My “nursery” has become a detestable pile of over priced junk that I will more than likely never use for obvious reasons. At least thats what my mom keeps reminding me. She keeps saying things like ” we dont even use that room, its filled with too many things and when guests come over, they cant sleep there because you have filled it up with things you will not be using now.” Idk why she keeps reminding me that I’m not going to be using those things right now. I didnt think I would have to be trying this long. I thought I repsonded well to meds and just needed a little push in the right direction, but as it shows, almost 2 years into this shitty journey and all I have to show for my dreams is one non-functioning ovary and a room full of baby things for a baby that does not exist. Talk about dissapointments.

    My father about a month ago started pressuring me about the insurance(I’m under his insurance till I’m 24?, I think) telling me how I need to start hurrying since trump is going to make having insurance less affordable for some of us. I believe I did hear how his health plan did get rejected, but I didnt pay attention enough as I was working when I hear it. Anyways, that is the least of my worries. What bothered me the most was the change in health plan that occured in this new year. Instead of being covered 100% like I was last year, I’m now covered only 90% and having to pay 10% of all treatments & diagnostics… anyone with infertility KNOWS that 10% adds up to thousands… which sadly I dont have lying around. Looked more into hubs insurance,  apparently he will need to pay about $10k-11k for his insurance to cover him for anything, so that is a piece of shit insurance. 

   More than often I find myself just crying over my lost dream to be a mother. I told hubs that my heart has given up. Mentally, I’ve just run out of options. Even though G- d creates miracles(which I’ve witnessed), I’ve also just lost complete faith. I am angry. I am bitter. I’m not sure how many more chemicals my body can take before I end up losing my remaining ovary. When do you know that your journey has ended? 

Things took a turn for the worse.

Things took a wrong turn. The year is beginning and we are starting everything on a bad note. I apologize,Im sorry, but this post will be the sloppiest shit ever since I hoesntly dont feel like writting and I’m just an emotional wreck.  

My father decided to downgrade his insurance coverage so my coverage went down also. Now I will be having to pay 10% for procedures, $30 copay and lord knows what else.. Not too bad in comparison to other ladies. 

The next steps are an HSG to assess whether or not my remaining tube is blocked or not. There wasnt a proper seal during the chromotubation so that was a waste of time and effort.  

Hubs insurance finally came in so he will be having an S/A to rule him out.

 Im just steadily losing hope, faith, and every damn daydream of parenting I ever had. I’ve never been this bitter and angry towards the most high. I pray and pray but recieve nothing but a kick in the ass everytime. 

Its starting to hit me on how its just not meant to be. Im not sure what else to say. I no longer care. 

Its not cancer & recovery.

I knew it wasnt cancer. I had blood work done to test me for cancer and that came back normal. It was still a relief to read that it wasnt though.

Recovery has been great. I thought it would be worse honestly and 8 days from surgery day I feel normal already except when I try to use my abdominal muscles when coughing or sneezing. I think the most pain I’ve had was just yesterday when the doctor emailed me saying that the chromotubation ( like an hsg during lap) the dye didnt run through my tube.

 I will be needing another HSG to either confirm the remaining tube is blocked or….. confirm that it isnt blocked.


The dictionary describes this word as angry,  hurt, or resentful because of one’s bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment. 

Since the beginning of our journey we’ve had nothing but bad news. Oh, you have pcos. Oh, you dont ovulate. Oh, you have no menses. Oh, look, cyst!. Oh, goobye cyst AND ovary……….. Oh, we dont know if your remaning tube is blocked……..Nothing but upset nights drowning in tears.  

So the question is, am I bitter? yes, yes I am. 

I believe I am entitled to feel this way. Who wouldn’t when everything you ever wanted since a young age (a family) is ripped out from under you without consolation. 

Where is God? what is his puprose for this? what am I to learn?

 This isnt his will. His will is for every woman to have their families so why am I left out of that equation? am I not woman enough? am I not to his expectations? 

All the questions that run through my head. 

People have told me, “just wait and be patient”. What do I wait for? for a miracle to happen?…. yea been waiting for over a year now. Be patient for what? Sit around till I’m 90 and regret doing anything? Thats obviously not in plan.

Oh wait, should I just push my husband away enough for him to leave me in my self-loathing so he can have a family with someone else? or should I just hand him to another woman and hope she gives me the baby?(we all know how that one worked out in the bible). 

I havent seen any angels with promises of a child or heard any voices telling me anything so Im assuming I’m in this all alone. No miracle is bound to happen? 🤔

I hate my position. I hate the fact that I have to deal with this too. Out of all the shit in my life I never expected THIS. I thought I’d be given a break but as it turns out, I’m bitter. 



Day 1 and 2 after surgery were good. No real pain. The only thing I have been feeling is a sense of heaviness while standing and a rock-like feeling in my abdomen which just feels like I need to go #2. 

In 2 days I gained the skill of coughing(I had a cold a few days before surgery and have left over phlegm)

 The steps are as follows:                               1: hubs helps me get out of bed. 

2: I grab a pillow and put it on the bed on top of a balled blanket.

3: I lean into said pile in a semi “push up” position until I know my tummy is secure from jiggling into pain.

4: boom, I cough. 

It’s such an easy task most don’t think of until they’ve had surgery, but it works. 

Day 3 after surgery, the feeling in the middle of my abdomen intensified as the night grew younger. It got to the point where I was crying. I wanted to rip my guts out. Literally.

I kept waking hubs up to take me to the bathroom and back to the bed but nothing I did or movements I made helped me with anything. I ended up sitting in bed crying in hubs arms because poor guy had no idea what else to do. I had taken all me meds and couldn’t take anymore so there was no instant relief for me.

All of the sudden I tell hubs help me get up, I need to go to the bathroom. I ran(what I can) into the bathroom with my little puke container the nurse had given me at the hospital. I threw up 500mL of fluid and some dinner I had. it was the worst feeling ever. Afterwards I went to bed and told hubs, let’s sing. We began a night if singing christmas carols. We are weird, I’m aware. Jews that sing christmas carols. Nice. 

We sang till I hurt no more. The only pain now was my muscles. I messaged a friend and she reminded me I had a warming heat sock thing so my problems were solved. I am now lying in bed starving. My stomach is speaking to me and telling me to go eat but I don’t think so!. 

Surgery day.

November 8th night I didnt sleep. Not one eye was shut that night as I Googled all outcomes. It was time to get up so I woke hubs out of bed around 7 am on the 9th and  I began to get ready. I showered like they asked me to with some special soap to prep my body for surgery.  A day prior my friend asked if she could come so I said yes. She was a former worker on the floor I was to have my surgery so she knew all the in and outs which was really helpful to us to not get lost. 

We got the to hospital and I checked in. The 3 of us sat impatiently waiting for them to call my name. When the time came a little old lady gathered me and all the people that were going to have surgery and guided us to the floor where we would be prepped. 

Got to the floor and one of the RNs hands me a cup and tells me to pee. I’m  guessing it was for a pregnancy test which was obviously negative. After peeing I stood in the hall awkwardly waiting to hand someone my urine-filled cup. Not long after some awkward looks were handed over to me with me pee cup that a nurse walked by and asked my name. She had been looking for me.

She guided me to a little curtained room and handed me a paper dress with a plastic attachment thing to it. She hooked me up to a vacuum-like hose that blew hot hair and explained that patients who were warmer before surgery had a better outcome. Lord knows how that made sense but I sat there and sweated my ass off for 30min till she came back and told me I could change the settings to a cooler temperature. 

My gyno(who was my surgeon) came by with a lot of other people to talk to me about the procedure and recap on what we had talked about when it came to removing anything. I had previously told her in my pre-op appointment to not remove anything, but after hubs and I talked about it and how it would possibly help me get pregnant we decided to leave my organs in the hands of the doctor. 

A few minutes later a skinny older lady came by and asked me how I was. Her face was really familiar to me, but I couldn’t pinpoint who she was since she was completely dressed up in scrubs and a silly lunch lady looking hat. It was my endocrinologist!!! She told me she MIGHT stop by but I didn’t think she would do it. I felt so much happiness knowing that she came. For the first time in forever being treated by her I felt such warm care and concern. I felt loved. 

I wasn’t nervous for the surgery anymore feeling like I was in good hands.

Two nurses came to my little curtained abode. One was on the computer asking me questions and the other one was starting my I.v.. 

I graduated medic school. I.Vs are MY THING. Starting I.Vs was the only thing in medic school that I thought I was the best at so when the nurse tries to shove a catheter into my hand… I got mad and told her to stop. She obviously didn’t get the vein but she continued to try to force it in after I complained of pain. After the failed attempt she Blamed me and told me that if I hadn’t tensed up it would have worked. BULLSHIT. I told her that I went through medic school and when I was at hospitals my thing was I.Vs and I knew that they weren’t supposed to hurt like that so what she had done was wrong. She got all bitchy and kept complaining about how I tensed up(who would when they are jabbing u with a catheter that won’t advance?!!). Anyways… she went to my right hand which, by the way was the hand I suggested to her in the beginning since it had a nice straight vein and guess what? she got it and didn’t have to hit my hand like she did with my left hand (she literally stood there and smacked it like if she was disciplining me.) 

I.V was in, now time for drugs!! I requested them to give me versed in case I was to get really anxious and they did. The anesthesiologist doctor came by to talk to me and tell me they were ready. All I really heard was “blah blah blab” since I was in my zone. 😂😂 

They wheeled me into the O.R and the guy tells me to look at his handsome face while he explained that I needed to breath in some funny gas. They moved me to the operating table. 

A mask was put on my face and the air in the mask made my mouth all numb. I feel asleep soon after while I heard the guy say how I was really high 😂. 

I woke up and I believe I tried to help pull the endotrachial tube out to which everyone was like “noo!!” 😂😂. I remember being moved to the recovery bed and feeling a little sore. I knocked out.

 I woke up again when I was in the recovery room. The nurse told me she had to give me meds and asked what I wanted to drink. She said apple juice and my brain was like “HELL YEA!!!!!” 😂😂. When she gave me the meds and apple juice I asked for my family. I wanted to see my husband and mom so bad(my mom came later and I figured my friend had left to her work meeting. She had left.)

I sat there drinking my apple juice and get this horrible itch on my vagina. Obviously in my out-of-mind state I decide it’s a good idea to feel around at what’s hurting/itching. Turns out it was the chomotubation(HSG) dye causing a yeast infection-like itching/burning sensation. I thought my wet finger was blood but no, my finger was completely violet blue…. how embarrassing right?😑 I tried wiping it off but it had seeped into my nail which also became blue. Me and my blue finger. I then hid my hand under the covers from the embarrassment since people were walking towards me.😂😂

The people began talking to me about something from the surgery and all of the sudden I see my husband and all I wanted to do was hug him. I missed him so much and was so scared I might not see him again. God, I missed his face.

Him and my mom came bearing the news. The doctor had taken my my ovary and tube from the side that the cyst was on. Apparently, it was 3 cysts in 1 big casing. 1 cyst had regular fluid inside. The other had dark fluid inside and the last one which couldn’t be drained had nodules inside. There was no ovarian tissue left on that side and the tube had adhered to my cyst so there was no saving it. Just like that my heart sank even though they tried to reassure me that the doctor had saved my other ovary and that the tube to that ovary was in perfect condition. I could still have babies but it still hurt. It’s all been God’s will though. 

Soon enough I was switched into a recliner and wheeled into the discharge room. Upon my arrival the next nurse asked me if I wanted to use the restroom. YESSS, I wanted to get up to walk. I was helped to the bathroom and as I sat on the toilet vomit spewed out of me. The apple juice that I had just recently finished came back up and tasted as sweet(I know, gross.)

I apologized to the nurse a million times. I knew how gross it was to clean that up because I had been there. I wanted to get down on my knees and help her clean it up but my legs wouldn’t let me. she changed my gown and put on some disposable underwear on me. Lord bless her and everyone there who attended to me, they were so kind to me. I was back in the little curtained room waiting to be discharged but I got nauseated again and they wanted to keep me a little longer.

I ended up falling asleep past my welcoming (2-3 hrs). I woke up and the nurse wanted to get me to go pee again since they had given me 2000mLs of saline. She gave me some crackers and some ginger ale which I thought tasted like HEAVEN. I ate them happily as we waited for Hubs to come back from the hospital pharmacy with my meds. He came back and my discharge papers were read to me. I was sent home. 

The ride home wasn’t bad at all. I felt no pain just pressure. I was good. My recovery has been amazing thanks to my mother in law who came down from georgia to help care for me, my mother who has been non-stop making sure I’m feeling fine, my husband who has been such an amazing amazing help. I’m very blessed. 

Today’s appointment & stress. 

The night before I set my alarm to 0700, 0705, 07010. I heard absolutely nothing. Hubs ended up waking me up at 0723 which wasn’t too bad since my appointment was at 0840. 

I get to the check-in area and as usual I get the mean resting b*tch faces from the staff. “Good morning!” I say in a joyful polite manner and as expected get the short “give me your name.” 

I sit down and wait for my turn. I’m not there for long when I hear my name called. The nurse guides me to the weight scale. I swear either my last bowel movement weighed 4lbs or my weight scale is off by 4lbs. That number was a surprise considering the fact that I’m taking healthier anitiatives. 

After, I get taken to the room where I’m to meet up with my doctor (who is also preforming the laparoscopic cysectomy). My blood pressure gets taken. 110/68, definitely a healthy number as it usually is during the morning when the daily life stress hasn’t began raising it… 

We sit and wait for the doctor. 

The doctor comes in and she begins explaining the surgery. She says that if they are able to drain the cyst they won’t have to do a laparotomy. If they can’t drain the cyst…. I’ll basically be getting a c-section just without the whole going into my uterus part. 

I’m the type of person who isn’t very self-conscious about scars. It comes with all these issues of life. Idk how others let it get to them. The doctor kept reassuring me of the sizes of the scar and all this stuff and I’m just like “bleh, scars and surgery come hand in hand.” The doctor also mentioned doing the HSG procedure while under which I find amazing because I’ve heard terrible stories of pain. I obviously opted to have it done. She expressed her concerns with my tubes if they find a block. She said it would increase my chances with fertility if I took out a blocked tube.  At the moment I’m just like “noooooo do NOT remove ANYTHING” But now that I have the chance to fully think of it and the whole cycle of getting pregnant I see how my fertility could be increased. I guess I’ll tell her I changed my mind on surgery day when I see her again. Hopefully my tubes aren’t blocked and we won’t have to resort to that. 

As for my fear of having my ovary removed she said that it would be easier to remove since it’s 9.7cm and that she would do all she could to leave ovary tissue in place unless she saw something that concerned her. I have no idea how a bigger cyst will make things easier but she’s a surgeon for a reason. 

I had to ask her how much experience she had…. she looks probably 10yrs older than me or less. Her overly confident “I have tons of experience” worried me even more.. who wouldn’t be?! I want experienced hands!! Well, I can’t complain, at least she won’t have shaky hands. 

We finished up our talk and we were then guided to a pre-op nurse who would then drill hubs and I on all the Do’s and Do not’s of before and after. He gave me 3 bars of “soap” which is that orange antimicrobial stuff docs use before surgery. I’m to shower with it Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning before surgery.  Hope it smells decent. 

Signed 2 consent papers and we were on our way. He guided us out to the check-out desk, we paid our dues and ignored the resting b*tch face with a little sass in the mouth.

 I wish they would get better customer service people there, they are literally the WORST when it comes to people skills. Smile. Say something NICE, it won’t kill you. Sometimes a smile and kind words lift my spirit up and for a split second I forget that I’m dealing with infertility and life is unfair. 

This is really really reallyyyyyy happening to me. I’m still shocked. 😣😣

Fertility clinics & money. 

Girls girls girls…. we allllll know this topic just goes hand in hand don’t we?

I want take it way back to when we met up with the doctor in March of 2016. The doctor was nice, everything was going good. Definitely a better appointment than the prior one I had in August of 2015 when the doctor just ignored all of my fertility questions and basically shoved “diet” down my throat as the solver of all my issues. 

The doctor ordered for me to have an STD screening prior to starting fertility meds. Cool, I know I’m clean, but having had been out and about in the back of an ambulance I can understand the need for it. Bad news. Even though my insurance company covers ALL of my preventative and diagnostic blood work…. the fertility clinic would not be billing the insurance, but would be billing me $140. NOT COOL.  I ended up going to a diagnostic place right across the street from where I live and didn’t pay squat. 

During the consult, she also advised me to get horizon genetic testing done and “get it out of the way”. She told me, “we do the test right here and it’s only $16″… I thought “holy shit?! Genetic testing for $16!!! I’m in!!!“. I later recieved a 17k bill in the mail…..  Later I was told that I wasn’t needing to pay it, but that was after 2 weeks of digging for information. When those results were in, the doctor required me to go meet with the genetic counselor before I went ahead with the fertility. I HAD to know how low the chances of giving my children rare genetic illnesses were apparently. 
The whole ordeal with the clinic, the insurance company and the stupid mandatory genetic meeting made me lose a month of ACTUAL ttc!! (I have a hard time calling ttc “ttc” when I’m not having cycles or ovulating. Let’s just name that…..enjoyable sex)…. 

Great, one month lost to stupidity.

The next month everything went as planned. I got my fertility meds, went through the whole cycle as planned. Perfect. I was over the moon. I didn’t ovulate.

Cool. Cool. Next month right? 

Nurse had informed me over the phone that the doctor would be raising my Femara dosage from 5mg to 7.5mg the next cycle. Great!…so I thought. 

Next cycle I pop in for my baseline ultrasound. The nurse or whoever they are were like ” so you did Clomid 100mg last month right?” As she’s looking at my chart. I respond with a very confused face and voice saying “no, I did  Femara 5mg last month. I’m supposed to be doing 7.5mg this month.”  

The nurse hmphs and goes away. When she comes back she informs me that the plans have changed and that the doctor will be conducting what they called a “Clomid challenge test” which you can see below. 

Everything was good and dandy. Fast foward to the end of July and it was discovered in an mri of my back that I had a cyst of some sort which would need further evaulation. 

I called the clinic the next day after finding out about the cyst and the nurse told me flat out, “I’m sorry but we don’t really deal with these situations.”….

You got to be fucking kidding me right? The cyst was obviously caused by the clomid. I hung up pissed because seriously? How do they not deal with these issues?? Anyways I ended up going to the e.r to get an immediate ultrasound. Complex ovarian cyst was the diagnosis.  The next morning I once again called with all the information from the e.r and told the nurse that it was caused by the Clomid and they needed to do something about it. She told me to stop by the clinic and drop off my mri disk and the paperwork from the e.r. I took all the information the next day. 

A few days passed and I recieved a call from my doctor which is rare because I had not spoken to her since the 1st meeting I had with her. She said she wanted to schedule me in and talk about the cyst. 

At the appointment I sat down with the doctor who I hadn’t seen since March…. I hadn’t seen my doctor in months. Is that normal??? I don’t think so. We sit down and basically she tells me i’ll need another ultrasound in 4-6weeks to see if it gets smaller. Really? A meeting just to say that? Could have told me over the phone, but no, my $20 copay keeps them alive. 

Fast foward to that ultrasound and guess what girls? The cyst is the same size!! Woohoo!! 2 months with the dang thing the same size!. I need surgery. Great. It gets scheduled that day. The billing lady tells me she will call at the end of the week. 

I waited for her call. It finally came a Friday later. I had to pay $150 as a “down payment”. When I asked an estimate for the total I was given an ” I don’t know, you will just have to wait till they send you all the bills.”

I called my father and told him what they billing lady had said since he had called me the days prior asking me if I had recieved an amount estimate. He took the information that I gave him and asked his female coworkers(he works in a gynecology clinic and his coworkers have the same insurance) what they thought about it. They told him that they had gone for various surgeries and hadn’t payed a penny. 

Obviously I call the insurance company to verify the information my father gave me and they tell me that I’m 100% covered in everything that the clinic is ordering for me so they didn’t understand why they were asking for that money. I call and tell the billing lady what the insurance told me and she said she would revise the paperwork. 

A week later she calls me and apologizes because the other billing person apparently looked up my coverage on the Internet instead of calling my insurance company. How do you screw up the only job you have??…. long story short, I don’t have to pay $150 or anything for my surgery. 

Now, after all you just read you might be thinking to yourself, “why in the world would she keep going back there?!!!”. The answer is simple. It’s the only overpriced, endocrinologist, fertility  specialist in town!!… Go figure. Have any of you had experiences like this?? Tell me about it. 


Yup, I’m going under the knife for the first time.

I can express how scary and agonizing this is.

We have a date set for a few weeks from now and I’m just so eager to get this over with to continue with my journey.

I will be having a complex ovarian cyst removed along with a HSG (A hysterosalpingogram or HSG is an x-ray procedure used to see whether the fallopian tubes are patent (open) and if the inside of the uterus (uterine cavity) is normal.).

I believe the most horrifying thing for me is thinking how I could lose my ovary because the doctor just doesn’t want to try and rather call it a day. The cyst is pretty big, its 9.7cm which is roughly 4 inches.

I’m told the procedure is pretty easy-going with  few weeks for recovery and you get to go home the same day. I can’t say I don’t like that, but I’m also told about the gassy pains which I wont enjoy so much. Who would?

I’ve gone into google and read a little more in-depth of things that go on like that of being tubed( where they place a tube down your throat to maintain an airway.) and that they place a urinary catheter in. I’ve seen those being done when I was in medic school and they are definitely painful so that will be fun…not really.

I’m not even sure what to expect after the surgery when it comes to my fertility. Per uneducated in ttc people, I’m told to have some hope and to think that this will “help” me get pregnant. Sometimes I’m not sure whether to blindly believe that this might help or keep my medical knowledge in mind.

I have PCOS. It’s the cause for my infertility. I took Clomid at 100mg. It caused the cyst I’m now dealing with. Removing my cyst really wont make me more fertile. This is cut dry science.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. “God does miracles everyday!”. Yea, I totally support that. Sometimes there are times when he makes the inconceivable happen, but he is the ultimate scientist who designed all of our bodies to work the way they do.

I’m just really praying nothing goes wrong and I have a fast recovery with no more set backs to our fertility journey. Keep us in your prayers. Much love and baby dust to you all.