The Gods Are Conspiring

September, 2010

I don’t really want a baby. Why would I? I get the best of both worlds at the moment. I play house with 3 step-children 3 days a week, and I have a quiet, peaceful existence for the rest of the week. Why would I mess with that ideal?

There’s a little something called maternal instinct that I underestimated the power of. I can’t help but coo over stranger’s new babies in the supermarket. I find myself staring into shop windows with cots and change tables on display. I had a de facto relationship for 5 years that ended almost 10 years ago. The main reason we broke up was that he wouldn’t make any kind of future commitment. I didn’t want to be making life-changing decisions on behalf of us both, and hope that he went along with it. So we went our separate ways. He recently became a father. As I offered my congratulations, I wrenched out the knife that was twisted deep into my stomach. It was tough news to hear.

So you got me. I lied. I do want a baby. The lies are what I tell myself to make the disappointment easier to contend with. And the weight of the disappointment gets heavier with each passing month.

This month I feel like the coyote that has had an anvil dropped on his head by the crafty roadrunner.

The month started badly with me re-catching the cold I have been fighting for 4 long months. We had just come back from working in Far North Queensland, and I was finally feeling like I had beaten the dreaded lurgy! A few days in the warmer climate had done me some good and my nose could start recovering from too many tissues. 2 days after mentioning my victory to my husband, I went down again like a sack of spuds. Adding to my misery was the realisation that the Sperm Donor had to go away for work. Without me. While I was sick. Who was going to mop my brow? Who was going to make me a cup of tea? Who was going to make me pregnant????? His trip went from Day 8 to 13. That doesn’t leave much room for the day of magic to occur. I had to be well enough by day 13.

By day 13 I had the worst PMS you could possibly imagine. I get it every month, only this time the 2 days of nit-picking and snarling stretched to 2 weeks. I was incredibly tired, and every important part of my body hurt. My skin tingled all over – and not in a good way. I didn’t want sex! I didn’t even want him in the same room as me! To add to my misery, an unexpected, but familiar, pain started in the area of my left ovary. I had been down this road before.

Instead of rushing to the doctor to investigate, my brain went into the usual fantasyland mode it had clicked into before.
“It’s not  another fibroid. It’s a sign I could be pregnant!”
Sure, I only let the sperm donor near me twice this month and it was nowhere near when I ovulated, but miracles do happen!

So I waited. And when my period arrived, bang on time, I realised that it probably is another fibroid. My period was much lighter than usual and only lasted 2 days. Instead of rejoicing, alarm bells started ringing. We were away from home for 5 days working in a country town. My mind was going haywire with the possibilities of what could be happening. A fibroid was one possibility, but there are so many options, ranging from ectopic pregnancy to the on-set of menopause. As the weekend progressed so did the pain. By the time we finished our job on day 4, I was ready to get some answers. I was not in agony, but I was very uncomfortable and bloated. Even my fat pants were feeling the strain. I rang my IVF buddy for reassurance and she agreed I should head off to the local hospital.

Country towns are really up against it when it comes to health care. One of the students at the workshop we were conducting was a GP and told me that in her town, there is a 3 week wait for ultrasound. I wasn’t hopeful that I was going to get one then and there. After giving my details and symptoms to the triage nurse I was taken through to the emergency ward where 3 different nurses came to ask the same questions of me. Several vials of blood were taken and I gave a urine sample. The doctor on duty came and had a bit of a prod and said that we would now wait for the test results to come back. An hour or so later he returned to say the results were all negative except that I am anaemic. No infection, no pregnancy, ectopic or otherwise. I asked for a scan but he said the sonographer was not prepared to stick around while I drank water and filled up my bladder. Really? That’s the reason? The nurses all rolled their eyes and told me to follow-up with my GP as soon as I got home. I was reassured that my ovary wasn’t going to explode during the flight home, given some happy pills and sent away.

My GP decided to re-do all the blood tests and send me for a scan immediately. Since the surgery to remove a 6-7cm fibroid 14 months ago, I now have 5 of decent size with one topping the measurements at 5cm. I can’t grow a baby but these little suckers are a breeze to cultivate! I have no reason to think I am not heading towards more surgery. Not happy, Jan!


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