I'm seriously thinking about trading in my uterus for a new one. All of our problems in the 2.5 years of trying seem to come from my getting a generally crappy one. There's its evil endometrial tissue that migrates into my pelvis and gloms onto other organs. Scar tissue, souvenir of a D&C. A subversive septum. Possibly harmless (friendly) fibroid and, of course, a pesky polyp for good measure. My ovaries aren't superstars but they're Meryl Streeps compared to my Kristen Stewart uterus (love ya, KStew, but hope Twilight wasn't your peak).
I had my post-op 3D saline infusion sonogram today and everything was not as I'd hoped. I'd visualized a squirt of saline illuminating an almost flawless uterus, except for the resident thyroid and screwy arcuate shape to give it some character. The doctor would high five me and she'd show her students images of my uterus as a success story. "This woman had a REALLY messed-up uterus, but I fixed it and now she's had 10 children!" Or two children, something like that.
Instead, 30 minutes of medieval torture, complete with two balloon and saline catheter sessions, yielded inconclusive results. A fuzzy spot near my left tube wouldn't infuse properly. Well, shit. It could be leftover period stuff because I'm only on day 5. Or it could be more scar tissue and I WILL HURT SOMEONE if we have to go into waiting mode again, have another surgery, etc. Of course we want to optimize the uterine environment, but what about optimizing my sanity? If I lose it, I'm blaming it all on my ute.
The plan for now it to continue with letrozole and have a hysteroscopy on Monday. Depending on what we find then, we'll either try this cycle or not. I'm not willing to admit we're out just yet. I can't. It would be one thing if I knew we'd only be knocked out one cycle, but my last surgery benched us for 3 or so. My doctor is optimistic that it's nothing, but I'm freaking out, of course.
My lovely sister will have to drive my twilight-sedated body home from the procedure, the third time she's done this in the past few months. My husband's schedule is really inflexible on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and isn't jiving with my doctor's inflexible schedule.
Perhaps uterine water torture and iffy fertility-related news wasn't a good set-up for having lunch with a friend who is about 40 weeks pregnant. Said friend is officially lapping me, or close to it, since I started trying when she was pregnant with her first. Seeing her was actually not as difficult as I'd imagined (hadn't seen her in ages), but still stress-inducing because my prolonged torture session caused me to be late. Way to force your very pregnant friend to wait around for you. Yeah, I know.
Please send your healthy uterus vibes my way on Monday. I mean, let's hope it's healthy already, and that we can see that it's healthy on Monday.