Pain, Pain Go Away

So it’s been about nine months since the chronic pain started. I saw at least a handful of doctors to help me figure out what was wrong; the first was a surgeon who increased the pain significantly. The second was a chronic pain specialist who, when I told him my symptoms and my quality of life, dismissed me without bothering to learn my story. Although he was kind enough to tell me my first surgery sterilized me. *sigh* Again, the pain never ended, it only got worse. It wasn’t until I went to a third doctor, another surgeon who has more accolades than I can count, decided a partial hysterectomy was in my best option. At 32, that word and the menopause to follow, were very scary things. At the time, however, I would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING to get rid of the pain, even if it meant officially, no children of my own. We scheduled the hysterectomy for December 27, 2016 (Merry Christmas!).

The day came, my husband and my mom were there with me at the hospital to support me and take care of my mental and physical well-being after the surgery. Everything during the surgery went as well as it could have gone. The surgeon needed to take much more than he planned, however. He originally planned to only take my uterus, but took that plus my right ovary, Fallopian tube, and cervix due to the endometriosis. Currently I am left with one ovary.

After the surgery, the pain seemed to continue, and not in a surgical manner. It was as if every time I moved, my insides burned and felt like they were being stabbed. Something didn’t feel right. I “recovered” and returned to work for a little less than two weeks before I couldn’t teach. I remember my last day: I ran our television studio from the floor in the fetal position and taught my first period journalism class from my desk with a heating pad on. My kids wouldn’t even let me stand; they are a wonderful, caring and a compassionate group of young scholars and I am blessed to have them. They watched me cry as I helped them with the paper and showed such strength for me.

During second period, a colleague of mine (one who taught my husband), saw me in excruciating pain and crying at my desk in our common planning area. Everyone suggested we go to our local hospital’s ER, but time and time again, I’ve been dismissed because they couldn’t see anything on their tests. To be frank, they considered me a drug seeker. My colleauge immediately called our administrators and my husband and I went directly to Mercy hospital in Baltimore instead.

At first they couldn’t figure out what was wrong and said they would send me home with pain pills. The entire visit took less than fifteen minutes. It might have been the pain talking but I finally got up the gumption to say, “If you don’t know what’s wrong with me, admit me. If you send me home with pain pills, you’ll see me again in a week.” My doctor said okay and I was admitted that day. Let me preface this by saying my surgeon is a wonderful man who is kind, caring and compassionate. He listened to my plea for help and ran tests while I was admitted. No one could see anything on either the CT scan or the sonogram and the answer again was pain pills and home. I refused his team’s suggestion and said I wasn’t leaving until he opened me up, looked around and everyone stopped relying on pictures to tell me “nothing was wrong”. Again, pain speaks volumes for me and my courage and my doctor agreed. He even did the surgery on a Sunday morning.

The surgery, again, (3 times in 9 months), was successful. I woke up to my husband telling me adhesions (scar tissue) had built up in my belly and was making my organs stick to my abdomen wall. Basically, every time I moved, I pulled organs that are not designed to move. After this surgery, of which I am still recovering, I am FINALLY chronic pain free! I feel like my old self, not like the shell of a person trying to survive.

If I could have you take away one thing from this post, only one, it would be to be your own advocate. You know your body better than anyone or any picture could ever show. Had I not been my own advocate and basically demanded surgery, I would not be on the road to full recovery!

I am grateful and blessed to have had a phenomenal surgeon, good friends and family check up on me and take care of me, even in the smallest of ways. They have sent cards and small gifts, food, flowers, and things to help me stay busy while I’m resting for one month. Needless to say, I’m getting very good at coloring and hand lettering calligraphy! Two of my cousins even sent me special gifts: one sent me a yellow bracelet, as yellow is the color of endometriosis awareness and the other sent me healing crystals which I keep by my bed to help comfort me.

My husband, during this final surgery, has been such a great support system. He has made sure I have everything I need, while sacrificing his own needs at times. I cannot tell you the love I have for this man!

I’ll also say that animals seem to have a keen sense of pain and healing. Our four dogs have been very attentive to me and don’t want to leave my side. They are loyal and they love unconditionally.

Together, now, it finally feels like we can move on with the adoption journey. We are both working side jobs to help raise the astronomical amount of money we need to have a child of our own. I teach to children in China online and he has a side business called WoodBuryDesigns.  He also does hand lettering and wood burning that started as a hobby and now we are using the money from both of our side jobs to make it possible for us to adopt our waiting Webster.

Now that the pain is gone from my insides, there is room for more love for a family and fun! Thank you to everyone for your support during this difficult time. I love and appreciate all of you and your gestures, big and small! They mean the world.

Next stop, adoption! ūüôā I can’t wait to meet our baby.



The Beginning of the End…

It’s been a little less than one month since I had my hysterectomy where the surgeon intended to take only my uterus. Instead, he was forced to take my uterus, cervix, right ovary and Fallopian tube. Needless to say when I woke up and gained consciousness, I was a little taken aback by all that needed to be removed due to my endometriosis. According to my surgeon (no one else saw it), my right ovary was “indiscernible”; no one understood my pain or took the time to understand it. No one except this man. This wonderful man whose bedside manner is something to be commended. He reassured me and hugged me more times than I could have ever imagined. His staff was caring and compassionate and to put the cherry on the sundae that was this experience, he sent me roses during my recovery.

I’m blessed to have had such a great support team, from the doctors and nurses at Mercy Medical Center who took such good care of me and tended to me overnight, to my husband and my mom who never left my side for three weeks during and after surgery. My husband even slept on those awful hospital couches just to be with me. I’m one lucky lady. My mom, who I can’t thank enough for taking three weeks off from her own job to be with me and take care of me, Steffan and our furry family. My school family who called, texted, sent flowers, cards, Meal Train dinners to help lighten our load and focus on healing and taking over my classes; you are all wonderful and I’m proud to call myself a Clipper. My in-laws who came to visit and bring dinner to cheer me up and visit. There are too many friends to list, but your gifts and time meant the world. Lastly to a woman who, despite her own medical issues, took time to think of me and my classes and won a contest and gave my kids the money. Twenty years of knowing this wonderful lady and not seeing her in almost ten, and she still thinks of me. I am lucky.


There is always a flip-side to the positives. This has not been an easy journey. Surgical pain sucks. Knowing my childbearing years are officially over sucks when all I see are baby announcements. I try to be happy, but it’s a challenge sometimes. I am truly grateful for the people who show empathy for what Steffan and I have dealt with in regards to our infertility; you are our family. Therapy is helping. I’m learning techniques to keep from crying when it gets overwhelming; to put it into the words of Carrie Underwood, “This mountain is just a grain of sand.” Maybe mine isn’t that small, but I know this “mountain” is something I can climb over with time and support.

I’m learning to be kind to myself, which is incredibly difficult because I hold myself to such a high standard that when I am not perfect, I feel like I have failed. Kindness takes a LOT of breathing and patience, but I will get better at it.

Honestly, the hard part comes now. Surgery is over. Healing is underway. It’s time to take on the biggest journey of our lives and we’re ready. We’ve been ready. I know, because I’m nesting the heck out of my home, despite the chagrin of my hubs. Let the adoption process begin! We’re giving ourselves until June to reunite as husband and wife and grow in our love again and heal from this monstrous minefield.( “Dancing in the Minefields”by Andrew Peterson)

We can’t wait to have a child of our own; someone to dress and play with and spoil with love. Our turn is here. Our wedding song talked about “the beginning of the end starts with the words ‘I do'”. Well here is another beginning of the end, and this one is just as wonderful as our first one nearly four years ago. So here we go, time to get ready for another glorious minefield!

If anyone has suggestions for agencies or adoption lawyers, please leave your comments below! Thanks!


Tug of War

To say that it has been a long time since we have written is an understatement. We have had so much on our plate it hasn’t only been difficult to find time to sit down and gather our thoughts but we haven’t even been making dinner. I think in the past month I’ve maybe cooked like twice. For those of you that know me know that this isn’t¬†ordinary considering cooking is a strong passion of mine. Let’s pick up where I believe we left off….

We were in Annapolis finding out answers for my beautiful wife as she had been suffering for almost six months. Well She was finally placed in the right hands or shall I say back in the right hands of our current surgeon. He previously did a surgery for Trenae years ago that provided her with relief for quite some time until her endometriosis had progressed. For the past two years my wife has been made to believe it was “all in her head” by several very respectful doctors because they couldn’t see the issue on your run of the mill tests. Blood work showed nothing, CT showed nothing, and internal sonograms showed nothing. It wasn’t until this past week that we truly found out what was wrong. Now granted as Rumpelstiltskin¬†says everything comes with a price and for us it was the price of my wifes uterus, Fallopian tubes and her right ovary. I will not say it came at the price of us having children because that is simply not true and a very negative way to think of things. This price was one My wife and I were willing to pay and had I known this is where we would be today I would have encouraged her to have this done years ago. What was found during the surgery was that after two different doctors told her she didn’t have endometriosis our surgeon said her right ovary was covered in it and removed it with her request. Every other month for as long as I can remember my wife would have excruciating pain associated with her menses and on December 27th we found out why.

For months I have watched my wife fade as a lighter version of the woman I fell in love with because of this awful health condition. She became more anxious than ever, angry about many different things, and just over all very sad. Honestly who could blame her. I can’t say with an honest voice I would have handled it anywhere near as well as she has. She is one of the strongest people I know. But when I tell you what happened simply two hours out of surgery I knew we made the right decision even in spite of all the anxiety the build up of the surgey caused. My mother in law and I went back to see my wife. Now at this point she was in the recovery room lined up with multiple other patients in recovery. When you walk in you get hit with a very distinct smell that i associate with hospitals. One that doesn’t bring back memories that i enjoy. In fact at one point I had to step away from my wife because I felt like i was going to get sick. But I digress what happened when I saw her is I saw her again. She had that sparkle back in her eyes. The one I hadn’t seen in months and possibly a year. Two hours after surgery she had humor back and was making jokes about her surgery. As dumb as it sounds I walked away not only because I was nauseated from the familiar smell but because I was choked up. I had my wife back. I always knew she was still in there and I would get glimmers of her from time to time but this was the real deal.

One day after surgery she was up walking and laughing again, and while she was in surgical pain, the pain that she lived with in her heart had gone away. Now I am not going to sit here and say it will never come back but this surgery provided us with closure. It allowed us to let go of control and realize that sometimes we don’t get to make all the decisions. It allowed us to set our sights on what it is we have been yearning¬†for these past four years and that’s to be parents. I’m not saying it will happen tomorrow or that adopting is going to be a piece of cake either but what i am saying is that we will have a child and they will be ours forever. If you’ve read my past posts you’ve heard me talk about ¬†riding on a rollercoaster that never stops. Well I can finally say it has stopped for us and we are buying new tickets on our ride that has an end and its one that leads to becoming a family of three.

Trenae was discharged the day after her hysterectomy and we headed back home. Now before we went up to surgery our beloved long-haired mini dachshund had injured his back. He seemed like he was improving the couple of days we were home, but then we get back and his back legs weren’t working very well. In fact they were dragging at certain points. Is this where I began to feel very overwhelmed. I had my wife who was recovering and now my dog who we are thinking is paralyzed in the back legs. I called our breeder to find out what she suggested to do, and she gave me the contact info of this amazing veterinarian that does physical therapy, acupuncture and multiple other modes of therapy. I called and made an appointment right away and we were to be seen two hours after I hung up. We go in and this place is like the Ritz of vet offices. I mean not a speck of dust or dog hair on the floors. They take Walter and I back and assess him and determine that it is either a bulging disc or herniated disc. She suggests two options one is surgery and the other is a culmination of different therapies. She goes over the pros and cons of both and makes some calls to get me an estimate of what the surgery will cost. Now keep in mind we are a day of being home when all of this is occurring. So you can imagine the level of stress in our ¬†household because our dogs are our children. She comes back and says Mr. Webster the estimate for surgery is going to be between 12 and 15 thousand dollars for Walter and they can take him today. Now my first thought was how can I make this happen because my wife and I love this little dog with all our hearts, and then my second is how the hell are we going to afford this when trying to adopt and everything else that has hit us in 2016. She suggested calling our breeder and seeing what she would recommend. She recommended the multiple therapy route. So Walter has been “lasered” and given a gamete of meds and he is walking again. He will be crated for weeks possibly months to regain his strength and allow his disc to move back into place.

I literally do not know how we would be standing without my mother in law here helping us or our friends that have brought us food and visited with my wife and I.¬†I am in this strange tug of war right now with a sense of relief but also a sense of being very overwhelmed. In the end it will all work out however it is supposed to but I would love nothing more just to be able to enjoy my wifes recovery with her and to have our little Walter snuggled up next to us in bed again. Only time will tell whats in store but for now I must go to bed because tomorrow is a big day for me….. I turn 30. It’s insane to think I am that young and have experienced all these different things in life already. Good night all and stay tuned for whats up for us next…


Just call me Sisyphus…

It’s my third day that I’m laying in bed, tethered to a heating pad because I can barely stand up long enough to shower. I need help from my husband to get dressed and then back into bed. For three days in a row, I’ve needed the support of my colleagues to help me plan and execute lessons for my kids. I am in pain. Excruciating pain that no one can seem to figure out definitively. I feel such guilt that I have made my husband Atlas and now he is carrying the weight of my world on his shoulders. He leaves for work every day worried sick about me because I can’t stop crying. I don’t want this view of me to be the last one he sees of me before he heads out the door, but I don’t know how to stop myself.

Steffan and I voted on Tuesday and then made our way to Annapolis to see the specialist of whom my gynecologist recommended. We went under the impression of determining a long-term pain management plan, as that is part of his title, “pelvic pain specialist”, and with a list of questions about the looming hysterectomy in my future. I’m 32 and the idea of having organs removed from my body scared me greatly…especially because in my eyes, these are the ones that make me a woman and now the thought of us ever being able to have a child is gone, aside from adoption. I am happy with that plan for bringing a child into our family, I’m just wished we weren’t forced into that position. Rational or not, it’s not like they can be replaced, and the thought of needed hormone replacement therapy at my age is not ideal in my small world view. *Side note: this was only our third visit to this specialist, but in our eyes he showed his true colors more and more each time.

We asked our questions about everything with this surgery and everything leading up to it: how this would impact my hormones, my libido, my pain and how to manage it until I’m ready, and recovery time. He had no concrete answers to any questions. It was all circular in nature; for example: when I asked about recovery time: he said, “Well that all depends on you. I mean you could be dancing in two days or it could take 4-6 weeks.” We were both taken aback by that answer, as it’s quite a wide range…and I’m a teacher who needs to plan accordingly to use my sick days. He also said it depended on my job. I said, “Well I’m a teacher, so I’m on my feet all day and moving around to help kids, and up and down by desks to work with kids, and up and down stairs to go to the office, etc.” Basically, I never sit. He responded with, “Yeah, but it’s not like you’re a firefighter or anything.” I was speechless. I just stared and looked at my husband. At that point, he knew I was panicking inside. I didn’t know what to ask since he just demeaned my entire profession.

Steffan asked about long-term pain management and he said, “We’re not doing anything for that. Is that why you thought you were here?” I said “Yes! That’s the whole reason we made the appointment!” How am I supposed to live tethered to my bed for the next six months without pain management? His only suggestion was a drug called Lupron. In all my husband’s research, he has found out so much about this drug that is utterly terrible. The basic premise is to induce menopause until I actually experience it with the surgery. This drug was originally designed for men with prostate cancer and failed. My doctor loudly refuted my husband and said that’s never been the case, despite it being able to cause diabetes, convulsions, epilepsy, impotence and heart problems (directly from For women, in the short-term, it can cause convulsions, headaches, bone-thinning, fluid retention, heart or kidney problems (again, from their site). Sounds like a great drug that I’m dying to take. I asked what other options he had for me, since at our first visit he said, “he lived out of the box”. He said that was it. I could opt for the 1 month injection or the 3 month one.

So let’s recap: drive 1.5 hours to be demeaned, yelled at, and left with no options for any immediate relief. I got in the car and just started crying.

When I got home, I wallowed for an entire night. We got home at 5 pm-ish and I went right to bed. I am feeling abandoned by the medical system.

I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to that doctor…I called an got a referral to a surgeon in Baltimore with whom I’ve had surgery before. I called the Annapolis office and had all of my records transferred. I am starting all over again and it feels utterly like Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the mountain one more time. How am I going to do this?

Yesterday, I finally managed to make it to my family doctor who was willing to get me medicine until I can get to Mercy and see the compassionate specialist I’ve seen before. Every time I left his office, he would hug me and tell me it will be okay. He said, in 2012, the last time I saw him, he had such respect for teachers…polar opposite of what I’ve been enduring.

I’ve had a lot of people tell me the pain is psychosomatic…it’s mainly in my head and my stress is making it worse. I know what my pain is. Because of this part of our journey, I’m losing hope in the medical system. For those of you Golden Girl fanatics like me…yes, I love them. There is one episode where Dorothy has to travel across the country and see a plethora of doctors because no one can figure out what’s wrong with her. She knows she’s sick, her mother and friends know she’s sick, but because the doctors can’t see it, it must not be there. I feel like Dorothy. Turns out she did have something wrong with her, but it took a little empathy and compassion and someone who is listening to hear, not to respond to figure it out. I’m still waiting for that person.

In the meantime, I’ll lay here with my heating pad, my mini-dachshund, Walter; my snoring Newfoundland, Frank and watch endless episodes of Parks and Rec. I am forever grateful to my loving husband who stands by my side and makes sure I am taken care of, even when I feel like I can’t do it anymore. I am grateful to my friends and colleagues who send thoughtful messages, help me with plans, and even take over my classes. You’ll never know how much it means to me. I am thankful to my in-laws and grandparents, who have checked up on me constantly. I am thankful to my mom, who even though she lives 10 hours away, offered to drive down today, spend basically one day with me and then drive home, because she too is a teacher and needs to be in school on Monday.

I will get better. Could someone tell me when? Please…


When the Train Changes Tracks Again…

Today was one of those days where I know I need to write a post but I’m overwhelmed to the point I am worried my fingers won’t represent the sheer emotions that we are experiencing at this moment. Here goes nothing…..

Today Trenae and I both took off from work to have a “day off” for doctors appointments. I put it in quotes because it felt more stressful and strenuous then any day of work I have experienced to date. We have been really looking forward to our first appointment with our fertility doctor. After all we thought we stepped foot off this ride a long time ago until we recently received the very generous gift of an embryo from a loving couple that shall remain anonymous. But back we went with the hope and joy that this is the one thing we had been waiting on for what feels likes an eternity.

The appointment went really well…… or so we thought. Our doctor went over our charts and said everything looks great, this would be a great option for us and the probability is about 50% (doesn’t sound high I know but when your probability is zero for so long 50 is huge). Trenae went on to explaining to our doctor that she had a surgery in August and thought it was just like the ones she had before to minimize the pain from her endometriosis. She said the word “ablation” and suddenly the conversation tone changed like when a bad thunderstorm is coming in and you feel the winds shift. Our doctor said he needed to know more about the surgery and if it were the kind he was thinking that we wouldn’t be candidates for a donor embryo because it would have taken away Trenae’s ability to carry a baby at all. We continued on the conversation saying it wasn’t that kind of surgery because we had communicated to her OBGYN our strong desire to be parents if by the stroke of luck a miracle happened. Our doctor felt confident in what we were saying because we were confident it wasn’t that kind of surgery. We left there elated thinking this might be it for us that our ride is finally coming to a stop and we are walking off it rather than falling like its felt for the last two years now. Until our next appointment….

We went to our next appointment with a pelvic pain specialist because since the surgery in August Trenae has had unbearable pain, and I mean what I say there. I have watched my wife cry as she goes to the bathroom, sneezes, and even just stands for a period of time. We went back to her OBGYN after post op and told her all these things and she said I just don’t know, maybe take some Tylenol and use a heating pad. We were in her office for all of two minutes until she dismissed us doing nothing. That’s when it hit me in the parking lot I wasn’t going to stand for this and that something needed to be done. I walked back in with my wife and told the receptionist they weren’t billing our insurance until we had answers and my wife felt relief. Finally she sent us to the amazing doctor we saw today and said we just need to get you pregnant (you’ll see the irony in this statement later). We meet with Dr. M and he reviews Trenae’s file and goes over everything with her to make sure he has the full story. He says to us I see here that you had an “endometrial¬†ablation.” I think there’s that word again, you know the one that if you had this surgery you can’t carry a baby. Trenae looks at me in sheer panic and says to the doctor I thought I had the same surgery I did before just to remove the endometriosis because I told my OBGYN that I wanted to get pregnant. He says no I hate to be the bearer of bad news and it pains me to tell you this but yes you had an ablation and no you can’t carry a baby… see the irony in her statement?¬†I see the sadness engulf my wife like a dark dense cloud. She says I wouldn’t have done the surgery if I had known that, how could this be, I told her over and over we wanted to get pregnant. I sat there holding my wife’s hand feeling the grip get tighter and tighter. Dr. M kept apologizing and said lets see if I can help with the pain at least and you can speak to¬†the fertility doc about the other issue. He exams her and does a couple different test to see what her pain triggers are and tells her to get dressed and for us to meet him back in his office. Now before the exam he told us he thinks it might be nerve damage but won’t know until the exam and when we go back to his office he says I think it may be what is called Adenomyosis. For those of you that don’t know what that is its basically when the endometriosis goes into the uterine wall and into the muscle tissue causing pain and lots of other issues. The crazy thing is before he said that I told Trenae on the way up that that’s what I believe she has through the research I had done. He immediately sent her to the building next door to have an MRI so we can figure out what next steps are. He says if it is in fact Adenomyosis the only option is a hysterectomy. At this point we are both feeling like we’ve been trampled to death. We started out our morning thinking our prayers have been answered and we will be able to have the baby we have yearned for to find out that her OBGYN took that from us and now she has to have a possible hysterectomy.

It is very hard to not feel like you are drowning in this situation. I tried so desperately to stay positive and think that some higher power whoever that may be is telling us we are supposed to adopt and even though we try and derail the path of the train we are being taken back to the original path, but lets be honest it doesn’t make it hurt any less. This news has wrecked both of our worlds, and there’s nothing we can do about it. So now what? we wait for the results of the MRI and go back to saving the crazy amount of money it will take us to adopt. We will have our baby eventually its just painful to feel like the medical system has now failed us. I was okay when it was me it had failed and my doctor ruined my chance of being able to conceive but now another doctor has ruined my wife’s ability to carry because she didn’t take the time to listen to us over and over again saying we want to be parents. It saddens me deeply that this ride has changed tracks yet again but the silver lining in all of this is we may finally have answers for my wife and she can be restored to normal health again. I’m sorry if my post seems to jump around and not make a whole lot of sense. I am finding it very hard to put this all into words but this is my best attempt. Until next time



A Tale of Two Fears…Well Maybe a Few More…

It’s 12:30 AM and I’ve been up for about an hour now, tossing and turning. You see, officially today, since the clock has passed midnight, Steffan and I have our multitude of doctors appointments to figure out 1. my medical conditions as my pain has only gotten worse since an oblation surgery I had in August to which my surgeon has no reasoning for, and 2. our plan with possibly moving forward with the implantation of a gifted embryo if I’m healthy enough to carry it.

Since school started this year, I’ve been dealing with pain every day. I’m doing my best to manage it, but even two “post-op” surgical appointments and a trip to the ER haven’t given me any relief. I’ve stopped eating dinner, because I can’t keep it down, and I got to the point yesterday where I text my husband in the middle of the day (10:30 AM) because I didn’t even go to lunch because I sat down from the pain and couldn’t get up again; I was afraid I was going to have to leave school. At 11, I put my happy face back on for my kids, but inside, I was dying.

Currently I’m sitting in my living room, heating pad on, surrounded by my two “large and in charge” furry protectors…both of whom are sound asleep and snoring. Jerks. The mini-furry protector is sound asleep upstairs…probably asleep on my side of the bed…again, jerk.

All I can say is, God love my husband. While I was at school yesterday, about to fall down, he was feverishly doing research on the specialist I am to see tomorrow, the possibilities of my disease and what it may actually be instead. For years, I’ve been treated for endometriosis, a disease that typically affects the ovaries, causes pain and often infertility…all things I’ve gone through since before college (call my mom, she can tell you). I’ve had surgery for this three times since college and yet, no relief. I go through stages where I’m ready to just throw in the towel and give up. After my first surgery (right after college), I was engaged to a very different man, who told me “I just wasn’t a good breeder”. Needless to say that didn’t work out. And thank God, otherwise I would have never met the man who continuously fights for me day in and day out. Steffan is the one who has done the research on not endometriosis, but something called adenomyosis. It’s similar to endo, but much more difficult to find unless you are specialized in looking for it; it isn’t even listed on Women’ — go figure. But don’t worry, anorexia and acne are…because that’s what we suffer from. Right ladies? He looked at the symptoms and he looked at me and the two matched more fittingly.

I guess what I’m trying to say in my tired, yet insomniatic state, is that I’m so happy to have someone in my corner who will fight for me when I’m afraid and ready to give up. It’s hard to fight when your tired and in pain. It’s also hard to fight when everyone you’ve asked for help, can’t give you any answers. On one hand, I’m hoping tomorrow I get an answer because then I’ll finally be able to get the right treatment. On the other hand, I’m scared I’ll be let down again by yet another doctor who still doesn’t know what’s wrong or where this pain is coming from. I know they call it “practicing” medicine, but could I stop being the pin cushion for a little while? It’s sucks when you can’t sneeze, cough, twist, or do other daily activities, like, I don’t know, teach your students, without wanting to double over in pain. I’m 32 and I just want to be healthy.

And to put this blog to bed…hopefully metaphorically and literally, there’s the embryo in the mix. That appointment is tomorrow too, as if one doctor a day isn’t enough…the what if game is spinning through my head at a whirlwind pace. What if he says I can’t carry because of these conditions? What if I’ve missed my window to carry a child? I go back and forth with these questions; tell myself I’m okay if that’s the case, then fall apart because I can’t do what comes so easily to others.

Forgive me if this is a sappy post. I’m really nervous. We have to be in Annapolis in seven hours and I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight. Guess it’s Netflix for me tonight…and time to turn the heating pad up to full blast. G’night y’all. Wish us luck.



Operation: Secrets and Lies

It was a blur for me coming out of surgery. There are certain parts I remember, some I forget and some I wish had never happened. Before my surgery I begged Trenae to not record me when I come out because I know I get crazy after being under. She chuckled and said oh come on lets at least have some fun with it so I conceded. She taped me of course saying crazy stuff about the doctor that misdiagnosed me, asking if the surgery worked, and of course begging for cookies at the hotel when we got back (For those of you that haven’t had the double tree cookies GET THEM). Still completely out of it I managed to call my mom tell her all about my surgery, how they gave me these killer yellow grippy sock, and how I felt fine.

We got back to the hotel and of course Trenae ordered me a tin of the cookies which I believe had like eight in them so of course I ate like 7 right then and there. The next day I had my post op follow up to check out my incisions and talk next steps. My doctor told me I¬†had to wait eight weeks to see if the surgery worked and restored a normal sperm count. EIGHT WEEKS….. That was torturous. She said if at eight weeks I still don’t have a normal sperm count not to get discouraged because typically the best results come at 6 months. Yup you heard me right six months. If you haven’t figured it out by now this whole infertility thing is a big game of hurry up and wait. Surprisingly eight weeks goes and comes and I go in for the post op semen analysis.

I remember driving up there feeling like this was the most important test of my life. You either passed or failed and I was hopeful I was going to pass. Things just felt different. I felt like I was going to get the grade I wanted, but no..No I didn’t. My test results came back in a week and there were still zero sperm even after the surgery.

At this point I felt stupid for getting the surgery it did nothing other than relieve some pain I had come to get used to. I am reminded by my doctor to not be disappointed because the six month mark is where they really start to look at other options. It’s a lot easier said then done to “Not be disappointed.” I mean hell isn’t that what infertility is a giant disappointment. A reminder every single month when your wife gets her period that its not in the cards for you as a couple. I try to not let me mind go to the negative over this six month waiting period and again I get my hopes up. The six month appointment comes and again I am told “I am sorry Mr. Webster but there are still zero sperm.” I don’t know why I was even shocked at this point. It was one let down after the next after the next. Why did I think this would be the one time a little buddy got through. After all that’s all we needed was one.

My doctor starts to tell me we have other options. I remember at that point feeling my face get red and the tears start to well up in my eyes. She tells me we can do another surgery called a TESE which stands for a microsurgical testicular sperm extraction. Sounds delightful doesn’t it? When we first met with my doctor she went over all the things that could be done and this was one of them. It was the one I said I wasn’t willing to do. The one that requires them to cut open the scrotum and take tissue from each testes and find sperm that are trapped. My wife and I were on the same page of not doing this surgery. We have gone through two years at this point of disappointment. Each stage of the game thinking this is going to be the one that works and finding out it never does. At least the was the case for us.

We go back to Shady grove to tell them it’s the end of the road for me on the fertility battle. They tell us we have other options, after all getting pregnant would help Trenae’s endometriosis, and her follicles looked great. Already I know where they are about to go and I hear them say “We can use donor Sperm.” Trenae and I already talked about this; if it ever got to this point and we decided this wasn’t an option for us. We listened to what they had to say and weren’t interested. The thought of having some strangers sperm in my wife and making a baby with her just wasn’t okay for me. I don’t say this to offend anyone because I am fully aware a lot of people go this route and I don’t think there is anything wrong with it but for me it just wasn’t an option. Until they asked me do you have a brother. I told them yes I had a little brother and asked why they wanted to know. Before I could even get the words out I knew what the answer was. They suggested having my brother be the sperm donor. That way genetically speaking the baby would have the same makeup. At first it was really weird to me to think about but after hearing the doctor explain it I was ok with it. Having him donate would mean I could look at our baby and see my features and my wife’s features. We left there again like so many other times feeling like we have hope. We met up with my brother and his wife and asked them if they would be willing and to let them know if they weren’t we totally understand. Without any hesitation my little brother says yes we will do it. This was the biggest gift you could ask of someone and for him not to even have to think about it meant and still means the world to me.

When we asked my brother and his wife we were only thinking about the end result and that was our future bundle of joy. We didn’t think about all the other stuff like does insurance still cover this? and for those curious the answer is no. Most states do however Maryland sees this as “Unnatural” and will not cover any of it under insurance. Making it cost around thirty thousand dollars for no guarantee of a baby at the end.The other question that came to mind is do we tell our child and better yet do we tell the rest of the family. What do you tell a child? “Hey there junior just wanted to let you know your uncle yea he’s also your daddy so you can just call him Uncle Daddy.” Or do we keep it a family secret just between the four of us to minimize our child finding out some day. My head began to spin on what to do and so did Trenae’s. We wanted a baby so bad but were we willing to do this. Start our child’s life on secrets and lies……