Dear friends, sorry for the lack of posting. I've been hibernating these past weeks. There is a whole, long, gritty explanation as to why I've taken to cocooning myself at my home with my boys, but I'm not quite sure how to write it all here. I can't figure out how much of it is appropriate to share and how much of it I should keep to myself. Perhaps, after all is said and done, I'll figure out a way to explain everything more eloquently, but I always hate it when bloggers leave cliff-hanger posts, so here's the smallest frame of what's going on with me (gritty details omitted).
I have Endometriosis. I've had it ever since I, ahem, "became a woman". The only way to diagnose (and the best treatment for) Endo is a laparoscopy. So, I had my first one in 2001. Then, to my surprise, I got pregnant in 2007 and had my wonderful, adorable, amazing, sweet, love-every-piece-of-him, little boy, Dylan. Life is good.
But, here's the thing: Endo is progressive and recurrent. So, mine is back and, it seems, with a vengeance. The pain is excruciating and debilitating. It has changed my life and the life of my loved ones. I started taking pain medication during my cycle, but knew I couldn't continue living in pain and I hated the stress it caused my little family. In March 2010, my doctor suggested a hormone shot that would, hopefully, shrink the Endo, relieve the pain and give us better luck with getting pregnant. Sadly, once the shot wore off, the pain was back and, well, the baby part didn't work either.
So, two weeks ago I found myself sitting in a fertility specialist's office and going over the specifics of what will be my second laparoscopy. This week I went to a world renown gastroenterologist who specializes in treating women with Endo. I found out that I must make drastic changes to my diet as part of a two part plan (surgery being the first part) to treat my pain and future health.
I've dealt with Endo and it's effects for almost 20 years and I realize now that I'm having to face an unwanted reality: that I must accept this disease and live with it. And that's really hard to do when the stakes seem so high: infertility, early hysterectomy, strict dietary restrictions. All I want to do is deny it's existence because I'm really scared and overwhelmed. And I'm sad. Life is good, really good. But, it's really hard. And, I think, often, the little girl in me just needs some time: to cry and grieve for the lost plans I had made and for the fear of unknown ones taking place right before my eyes.
I know, deep within the contours of myself, that everything will be alright. That all is as it should be. But, right now, that just doesn't make everything feel better. Which, I guess, is part of things too. The underside of things. The feeling bad.
I'm not quite sure how to end this post: I honestly wasn't planning on writing this much, but it kind of spilled out. I'll be sure to post a little update after the surgery (February 8!). Until then, I'm trying my very best to stay in the moment and not have an anxiety attack over general anesthesia.
xo,
steph
