Tuesday, November 10, 2009


Bad Bad Bad Cells. Very Naughty Cells.

Last December, I completed the second of two consecutive FETs. Both failed. My TTC journey ended with that last low BETA.

For all of 2009, my menstrual cycles have been consistently irregular. Each period would last 15 to 20 days and consisted mostly of clots and light spotting. I don't recall how may days in between each cycle but enough to feel normal. As each period passed, I waited for my body to right itself. Up until this year I was always regular.

In September, I went to my favorite gyn and found out my lining was 6x the normal size. We scheduled a D&C for early October. Nothing to stress about right? I have been through worse. I expected my cycles to go back to normal and would have no need to see my gyn again for at least six months. I was completely unprepared for the news I received three weeks ago.

I have pre-cancer cells in my uterus. More specifically, Complex Hyperplasia without Atypia. The last part, without atypia, is very important.

I DO NOT HAVE CANCER. In fact, I have a very small chance of getting uterine cancer. There is alot of time between pre-cancer and cancer when it comes to the lining of the uterus. I will be on a synthetic progesterone for the next three months to prevent the lining from growing. I will have have another sono the end of January and I think another D&C. (I stopped listening to my doctor at some point and thought more about how I got to this crappy point in life).

All of the above I can deal with reasonably. It's the next part that has me in a panic.

If I do not respond to the meds my doctor wants to do a hysterectomy. It was at that point that the tears started flowing down my cheeks. The loss of my uterus would put the final nail in my TTC coffin. Do I think I could get pregnant at 43? No, I do not. But a part of me needs to believe that I could. That small bit of maybe is what I am using to get through my adoption wait. I just wanted to be a mother. That's all I ever wanted to be. It is hard to imagine that I haven't lost enough already. That the universe needs more from me. And, I am so tired of the fight. I am so tired of being the sick one. I was always the strong, stable one that everyone could count on. Now I am an emotional basket case.

I often wish I could be that strong woman again. I have to remind myself that one day the universe will pay me back. One day, I will be holding the baby that I was meant to parent.

For now, I pray the drug treatment will work and I am shopping around for a second opinion. I love my doctor, but I think he is taking the easy way out. I want a doctor that will be willing to fight for my last bit of womanhood. Even if it is only for my own mental health and well being.