In my teenage years, I really dreamed of being a mom one day. I loved the thought of cuddling a cute little soft bundle of joy. And in my twenties, it was always a part of the game plan too. Although, I have to admit, there were more pressing issues at hand. Backpacking took a very high precedence in my early twenties, and when I came home to South Africa and decided to “get a life” (meaning a 9 to 5 job with prospects of earning some good money down the line), partying my heart out became my new priority number 1.
And so it was only in my late twenties that I got tired of kissing frogs, and made a list of traits that Mr Right needed to have. (I’m a Virgo, lists mean a lot to me OK?). And shortly after that, I was amazed when he did waltz into my life, and I could check off all 26 points on the list. We met through an ex fling, and it wasn’t exactly the stuff that wedding speeches are written about. But so it was that I settled down into a relationship, and eventually (a few years later) took that journey down the aisle.
We had seen a few people around us have kids and weren’t exactly envious of the sleep deprived rings around their eyes and puke on their clothes, so we decided to just relax for a year. We travelled to India and did a road trip around South Africa. And after a while, we started running out of excuses.
Exit contraception, enter home pregnancy tests. We had no reason to believe we couldn’t breed, and so had just about starting buying baby clothes the first month, before even thinking of buying a home pregnancy test! Of course there was no need for either. Approximately 12 months later, a friend of mine snapped me out of my denial by gently suggesting I go to see a fertility specialist.
And a good few blood tests later, followed by a nasty little test called an HSG, we seem to have pinpointed the problem. I didn’t quite recover from that horse riding accident as well as I thought!
Due to my internal bleeding and the type of operation I had, I have very likely got some scar tissue on all my organs, called adhesions. They are like little elastic bands that attach between the tissues of the organs, sometimes also sticking them to each other. I say very likely, because when the FS heard about my operations, he instantly decided against doing a laparoscopy (very harmless little operation where a camera goes into your belly button so the FS can take a look around). A laparoscopy in my case could be life threatening, as the adhesions could have stuck my bowel to my abdominal wall, and sinking the camera into my bowel is apparently not a good idea.
To be honest, I thought he was being a bit of a wuss, so I tried to track down my surgeon in the hope that he would tell the FS it was no big deal. Thanks to Facebook, I did manage to track down my favourite doctor in the world (Dr Grolman), since he had immigrated to Australia. And on a visit to South Africa, he chatted to my FS (who is slowly reaching second place in the best doctor in the world stakes). The unanimous decision was that there is no way anybody should do a laparoscopy on me!
But the HSG has already given all the results we need – one very blocked fallopian tube. And usually when one tube is blocked, the other one is very unlikely to have escaped unharmed. And what that means is that the eggies could be trapped in the ovaries, unable to journey to the uterus.
We’ve been told that IVF is our only hope. By the allopathic guys anyway. I have a lot of faith in alternative medicines too by the way, and here are all the things I have tried.
All those years of contraception… what a waste of time!