Baby Dust

Let’s start with happy updates! I love to post symphony memories on my blog because music is such a light in my life. The summer concert was great, and I can’t wait for the Disney spring concert at Abravanel Hall. I am incredibly sad that I’ll be missing this year’s holiday season; I signed a contract at the hospital to work the graveyard shift every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday for four months. That schedule puts me missing every rehearsal. I’m a glutton for punishment.

John Williams Concert Summer 2024

I was also able to go see Hozier in concert with my little brother. Ethereal concerts like that are always lovely and border on being an out-of-body experience. It was so peaceful, and a wonderful break in the busy day-to-day.

Hozier concert with my brother

It’s been more than 5 years of waiting. It’s been procedures, testing, treating, discussing, and planning. I’m done with the hypotheticals and so ready to try for an actual baby. We had a plan in place and were granted the go-ahead from the fertility clinic. It turned out to be “hurry up and wait” for my body to be ready. After a grueling 50-day cycle (a long cycle due to recovery from the surgery), I finally started a new cycle and began the Femara to support ovulation.

Despite a good track record of being able to become pregnant, I put my new HSA to work and purchased an Inito monitor to watch the interplay of all my hormones through the month. It’s a more accurate way to track ovulation to help with trying to conceive. I’m older now and things take more time. I’m feeling the pressure of that biological clock because I never wanted to attempt pregnancy after age 35.  It’s impressive to watch the exact timing of each hormonal shift during the month. Check out the promo pics of this technology because it’s been pretty amazing for me to use. I’m impressed with my body for doing exactly what it’s supposed to be doing (especially because all those hormones moving up and down simultaneously is such a complicated process).

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I’ve never taken any medicine to support ovulation before. In fact, I was a little hesitant to use it (like I was kind of scared of twins). The logic makes sense, though. If I get a strong, healthy ovulation- that supports all the hormones I need for a healthy early pregnancy and reduces the chance that I would need to prophylactically supplement progesterone the way I’ve done in the past. In that scenario, you have to start supplementing two days after ovulation- nearly two weeks before you could take a pregnancy test. It’s a twice a day vaginal suppository and it’s not fun. Plus it delays/messes up your cycle if you aren’t pregnant.  I’ve supplemented that way with multiple pregnancies- and for about 15 weeks with Aidia. If I can avoid that I’m ALL for it.

It’s one giant limbo step at a time. First we have to wait to successfully conceive. Then we’ll have to see if the baby will survive. Then decide if we’re done with this part of our lives. I’m to the point where I think I can make peace with almost anything. I just want to be through with limbo.

My first month on the ovulation meds wasn’t easy. I had painful bloating, weight gain, hormone headaches- all those wonderful side effects. My whole abdomen feels so uncomfortable. I have to find a way to also focus on my health during treatment. I hate the rapid weight gain and feel terrible. The scale and I are NOT friends right now, in fact I’m quite frightened of it. Fatigue, pain, and burnout are a real problem. Especially working long shifts with inconsistent sleep.

 

A week after finishing femara I started thinking it was a mistake to stimulate my ovaries like this. The pain was comparable to an intense ovarian cyst. I worried about OHSS (ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome). I did talk to the fertility clinic about it and got some information about what to be watching out for. Usually OHSS isn’t caused by an ovulation med alone; but, I had about two days where it was hard to breathe through the pain. I kept hot packs on at work and did my best to get through it. Luckily it didn’t last too long.

It feels like there’s about 10,000 factors we need to go right, and we are controlling any we can. I am shocked to see anyone just get pregnant and deliver a healthy baby. The miracle of it astounds me more and more. I spend most of my time around sick newborns, or babies born with congenital abnormalities. I’m awestruck watching them make the progress they do. I’m amazed at those little miracles and the fight they have in them. 

 

Each teeny tiny cellular step in early pregnancy is crucial, and really a miracle. I think if I weren’t quite so traumatized, I would love to get into embryology. It’s fascinating. 

 

I take care of a lot of NICU babies with what are called “midline defects.” Lots of women say not to stress about meds or even alcohol before a positive pregnancy test, but I’m over here with a skewed life view. Those defects normally happen before you would even know you are pregnant. I just see these cellular processes in my mind constantly.

I’ve worked hard to not let anxiety or feeling helpless take over my life, especially during times where there’s a chance I could be pregnant. The truth is: if the baby is healthy, there's not much you can do to accidentally hurt it without hurting yourself. I try to tell myself that several times through the day to still the anxiety.

 

Once we entered the “two-week wait” to see if I was pregnant, I felt a mix between exhilaration and a “buyer’s remorse” type of dread. Wondering what events I may have just put into motion. It’s been over 5 years since I’ve been in this situation. Old memories and trauma suddenly feel way too close to the surface. Anticipatory grief gets in my way of even daydreaming of a happy ending.

 

I've done some pretty deep soul searching through this process. Lots of pondering on the point of life and what I genuinely want out of life. I've already seen a lot of suffering in the NICU and can feel my perspective shift as I spend so much time in that environment. My friend needed to interview me about high-risk pregnancy and loss for her BSN. I filled out questions about how it’s affected my life, well-being, spiritual/emotional/mental health. What a sobering thing to remember that it has changed me in every way.

 

In dealing with anticipatory anxiety of pregnancy after loss (a place I've been far too many times), I can feel my psyche slipping back into those familiar ruts of devastation. I've been looking into daily affirmations/meditation, which truly has never been my thing. But I’m trying it because I would like to actually feel positive instead of just saying I’m being optimistic.

I’m trying to keep my body healthy, well-rested, and strong enough to do this. It feels like a big ask working full time nights with kids at home. I struggled with guilt if I needed to take a dose of medicine, even when I was a week out from being able to take a pregnancy test. Cutting my doses has left me with a lot of flu-like pain. The kind where your skin feels zappy/sore and your bones ache. It’s left me feeling restless and ineffective in daily tasks. It’s hard to think about anything but the pain and exhaustion from it. Those few weeks felt like going cold turkey off my meds, though I tried my best to taper. One more reason I hope it doesn’t take long to conceive; I don’t want to go through this for no reason.

 

At 9 days past ovulation, I started mildly spotting. The description was textbook implantation bleeding, so I was hopeful that the cycle had been successful. However, by the next day it gave way to red bleeding. It was nearly a week too soon to start my period so I was confused about what might be going on.

 

By cycle day 25, I started full-on bleeding, which totally shocked me. My period came super early. I don’t have a history of a luteal phase defect, so I did not see that curve ball coming. It did feel devastating if I’m telling the truth, especially since I had done the round of Femara.

 

Even though I was sad the cycle didn’t work out, it was much easier than being in limbo. I stopped holding my breath and could focus on normal life for a few weeks. The fertility clinic was surprised my cycle ended so quickly. They want to draw blood earlier in my next cycle and see how my progesterone is looking 7 or 8 days past next ovulation.

Time is a thief, and somehow * just like that * I have a teenager now. My sweet baby Jack turned 13 last week. There’s going to be a finite amount of time we’ll be able to endure the stress of trying for a baby. My kids are getting older and need my full attention in different ways than when they were younger. And a minimum 14 year spread is a huge age gap (remember when I was so worried about 2-3 years between my kids? Haha.)

                    

I hope it doesn’t take long to conceive. My problems have usually related to keeping the baby, not getting pregnant. All the meds, testing supplies, high quality vitamins, doctor consults, blood draws, etc add up quickly each month. I still need to pay off the recent surgery. It’s all getting a bit expensive.

I occasionally reality-check myself. When I started this blog after my third consecutive miscarriage, I was 22 years old. TWENTY-TWO. I need to somehow wrap my mind around the concept that I am, in fact, 34 years old now. Things aren’t going to work exactly the same. It might take some actual time to get pregnant.

In your early 20s, you have about a 25% chance of pregnancy each month. At age 30, it’s at 20% chance each month. Starting at 32, your chances gradually but significantly decrease. During my age bracket, age 34-36, the chances of conception are 56% within SIX months.
 
I think my chances are still good given my history. All 9 of my pregnancies occurred in about 1-2 months of trying. However, after our loss in 2019, we tried again for 6-7 months without success. We took a break for several years because I felt dangerously close to actual mental collapse. I had to find other pursuits to pour my passion into. But trying again has always been in the back (or front) of my mind. It was always part of the plan. I assume now that we weren’t able to get pregnant for those 7 months due to chronic endometritis (which we didn’t know was still unresolved.) I was 29 at that time. 

I turned 34 this month. Which is weird since I’m 17??

I finished my second round of femara this month and I would really love to not take it again. Send me all the baby dust.

Lucky Socks

    It’s been an eventful 6 weeks since my last post. I started my dream job at Primary Children’s NICU and I truly feel so lucky to have the opportunity. The stakes feel as high as they come to be trusted to care for a family’s newborn. Most of my brain power these days is devoted to studying all there is to know at my new job. It’s going to take years to finish the education available for the unit and reach the highest level of care, but I like that there’s a built-in trajectory. There was a time when I was afraid NICU would be too painful and triggering for me, so I’m celebrating this victory.

    ICU level nursing is no joke. It’s been drinking from a firehose; mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting. An experienced nurse who had been on the unit for 25 years said to “give yourself two years” to feel comfortable. I think the perfectionist in me is terrified (and excited?) about how much I have to learn.

    The benefits offered to me at this job truly have no downside. The coverage is about twice as good, for half the price. When agonizing over the idea of taking over our benefits, I realized it would drop our deductible by about 13K; it was clearly necessary. I had so much pressure sitting on my chest for days, just thinking about it. So much anxiety surrounds this obvious shift in roles. Even though I’ve been working full time for quite a while, I felt like I was “supplementing” the income while trying to run the household. Now I feel the pressure of maintaining hours for benefits and that is really scary. I’m excited that there are so many opportunities for me to grow within the company, but also torn knowing I would want to be home if I had a baby. I’ve put in too many years of infertility and loss. I think the stress comes from the perceived lack of flexibility in the future. Change is so uncomfortable. We have our hands full with our jobs (and Kevin just picked up a small second job), the kids, symphony, and literally everything else. I try to remember we can work out whatever comes. Unfortunately, this new insurance did cause our therapy costs to skyrocket, so Jack and I are both taking a break from counseling. Never a great thing to do at a stressful time. 

    When Kevin got his doctorate, I thought I wouldn’t ever “have” to work again if the kids needed me at home. Certainly not full time. But his career has been full of surprises and so has the economy. I don’t think many families can survive on one income anymore. I’m happy that I’m able to have a career; it’s the commitment that’s scary.

    It may be hard for some people to understand the reality of living with a condition like fibromyalgia. Chronic pain and fatigue is all too real and can truly be debilitating. It’s exhausting to mask it and carry on. Muscle through. The idea of taking on more is terrifying because you wonder, what if I literally can’t do it? Maybe I can most days, but if I push myself too far I will pay for it ten times over with a flare up. When I work several nights in a row, I usually have a flare up for a few days where the pain is more extreme and I have almost no energy. Like a very bad flu. Sometimes it’s even visible. The inflammation pops up in red splotches all over my feet and legs. My neurologist thinks it’s auto immune related and when I see the spots, it’s a red flag that I need to slow down and rest more. But those red flags always pop up when I work full time hours. I get more muscle spasms. I feel pain deep in my bones and shooting through all my nerves. It’s the main reason I’m afraid to stop my medications (which would be required if I were pregnant). I’m worried about how I would function with these full time hours I’ve committed to.

Fibromyalgia is usually invisible. But when these little red flags show up, I know a flare up is starting.

    I did officially get news that my doctor wanted to do a scope and D&C as the next step in trying to treat this antibiotic-resistant chronic endometritis. I was told I needed to start a hormonal treatment (the mini pill) for a few weeks to keep my lining thin and suppress my ovaries for the procedure. I started taking that prescription the same day. I was really nervous. I tried the mini pill in my early 20s for a couple months and was in absolute misery the entire time (I can’t take regular birth control due to the estrogen- because of my risks for blood clots). I was worried I would get nauseated and possibly have terrible migraines on these pills, which seemed like really bad timing with a new job.

    After hearing all the costs associated with this surgery it really hit me that, “wow this really is our last shot at this” because it’s just not financially sustainable. I immediately did, probably the most extreme thing, and signed a contract to work every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night for 4 months (after orientation) because it comes with a small lump sum that could help pay for the surgery. I will have to take a break from one season of playing with the symphony and I already miss it so much. Music is so good for the soul. 

    In the meantime, we have tried to keep summer activities going as much as we can. We were able to attend an amazing family reunion (For my side! It’s been over a decade since I saw everyone!) It was so special to see lots of loved ones meet and interact with my kids.

    Aidia also took charge of updating her room. It’s been the same since it was her nursery and she was ready for a big girl room! We painted it purple (with glitter mixed in the paint, which I must say is amazing).

    I’m currently in the process of planning Jack’s 13th birthday party. Which reminds me again that we are entering a totally different phase of parenting- the teenage years. It really is a crazy idea to try and add a baby to the mix, but I feel that it would be so good for all of us and bring so much joy. I know Jack and Aidia would be so loving to a baby; they would appreciate a baby because they are so much older. But this can’t go on forever. I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to build a family and have babies. The painful triggers still pop up when you least expect it (see below- thanks government I was just trying to pay my loans). 

I honestly struggled to answer this question

    I started on the hormones as instructed. I immediately bloated up like a balloon while my mood simultaneously deflated. Within a couple of days none of my pants fit comfortably. I felt like I was either depressed, numb, or overwhelmed. I was having the kind of anxiety that comes with literal chest pain and palpitations. I do not do well on hormones, everything instantly felt like it was too much at once. My resting heart rate went up; I was fidgety and restless. I was crying all the time and my nerve pain was exponentially worse. I was getting up at 530am for work and usually didn’t make it home until 8-830 at night, totally fried. I worried about the kids all day because it’s summer and they just call constantly to ask “how much longer” until I get home. I get it- no one loves being babysat all day.

Quick sidebar- How can working parents avoid feelings of guilt/inadequacy when balancing work and family life during the summer? Any days off I have, I feel like I just have to recover. Is everyone with young kids just in survival mode all the time? How do you keep your house clean and fridge stocked and finish all your projects? How do you keep up with exercising? How do you reduce your kids’ screen time when you feel like you’re just fighting-for-your-life tired? Figuring out child care for while working day AND night shifts (while trying to tend to my kids’ emotional needs) in the SUMMER may be the most complex puzzle I’ve ever put together. When I’m finished with orientation it will be much better. I hope. Probably unrelated, but grey hair has started showing up in droves. 

Anyway. I was overstimulated with everything new at work and felt like my brain on the mini pill would just freeze when overloaded instead of pushing through. I could almost feel my eyes glazing over when I didn’t understand something being taught. At night I was desperate to rest but kept waking up in cold sweats. I always felt freezing and continually had vivid and violent nightmares. Kevin never slept well either because of my shaking/shivering/thrashing all night. I would get up and change, only to sweat through a second set of PJs. I’m not looking forward to menopause. Look, hormones are not something to mess around with.

I was definitely not at my normal baseline mentally to use healthy coping mechanisms to deal with all the changes at once. Most days I felt like curling up into a little ball and focusing on breathing in and out. Fortunately, I was confident that a fair amount of this struggle was hormone med-induced. The good news is, I was right. Once I stopped the mini pill I felt a little sunshine break through and I’m feeling much more myself. 

The night before surgery finally arrived. Kevin was in Salt Lake with Jack at a concert and I had settled Aidia in bed for the night. I was picking up around the house and prepping everything for the morning. I was ready to settle in and get some actual sleep before the big day. I went to grab something from the laundry room and casually pet Lumiere on the floor outside the door. I did a double take when I looked down at him. He was breathing fast. Really fast. He had been totally normal, happy, and playful all day, but I took one good look at him and knew something was seriously wrong. I scooped him up to put him in his carrier to take him to the animal ER. He didn’t fight me at all. He was like a limp noodle.

I no longer cared about getting any rest before surgery, I wanted to see him stabilized and not in pain. He just turned 6 this summer and I’ve had him since he fit in the palm of my hand. To see my big strong panther so weak was jarring. They took him right back in the ER because he was panting at that point. Things felt chaotic as they tried to figure out what was going on. His labs were decent, it wasn’t normal cat issues (like kidney stuff) but his temps were cold and he had low blood pressure. I was worried about that level of shock when the cause was still unknown. They couldn’t rule out pancreatitis, which is really painful, so I signed for him to go into ICU level care. He was getting oxygen and fluids and good pain meds. I just didn’t want him to be in pain, but I hated that he was back in the ER without me. The doctor came in and said she thought maybe he threw a clot or had some kind of vascular event. She said they needed to rule out if it went to his heart or if he needed to go home on blood thinners.

I sat in that little consult room and cried like a baby. He is so beloved. I was by myself, it was the middle of the night, fasting for my own surgery that was starting in a couple hours. They let me give him a little pet goodnight and I told him I would be back after my surgery was over. He was stable and just waiting for the heart specialist to check him out in the morning. I wish I had known that was goodbye. I would have taken longer with him. 

A few hours later, it was morning and it was pre-op time. I already inserted the cytotec to start dilating my cervix when I got a call that he took a turn for the worse. He still had a heartbeat, but he had stopped breathing. They intubated him and put him on a ventilator. The new theory was that he had an asymptomatic lymphoma that started affecting his central nervous system. I was praying that my kids could just hug him goodbye. But Jack was at summer camp, Aidia was with a sitter, and I was headed an hour in the opposite direction for surgery.

It wasn’t long before they called again and said he had died. It was such a shock to the system. Such a lack of closure. No one got to say goodbye, have a last day with him, or tell him he was a good boy. The kids would come home without a clue he was sick, and he would just be gone. We thought he had at least 10 more years. He never missed a checkup or preventative care. I cried all the way to surgery and through pre-op. Maybe I looked crazy to the staff but it’s like “sorry, my cat just died unexpectedly when I was on my way here.” At home after surgery, instead of trying to rest and recover, I had to tell the kids and hear the grief in their sobs. Unbearable. They kept asking if they could go say goodbye, but he had already been gone for hours.

There were some little silver linings looking back on this tragedy. The day before surgery I was at work, and something told me on my way out to stop at the hospital gift shop. I nearly talked myself out of it because my kids don’t need any more stuff. I decided to just look for a minute, and saw a toy cat that looked exactly like Lumiere. I had never seen one like it before. Aidia doesn’t need any more toy cats. But I bought it anyway. I brought the toy home that night and Aidia loved it. We introduced Lumiere to the toy and snapped a picture of the meeting, having no idea that it was the last evening we would share with him. I get chills thinking about how I randomly bought that toy, and how my kids spent the next several days hugging it and holding it in place of Lumiere when they cried. 

I was originally supposed to take Jack to the AJR concert in Salt Lake that night, but with my new work schedule it was too hard to pick him up from camp for the night and drive all the way back to SLC after my shift. Kevin ended up taking him, which was fine, but I was kinda bummed because I bought the tickets for Jack and I to do something fun together. After everything happened, Kevin mentioned that he probably wouldn’t have noticed Lumiere’s respiratory rate and would have just gone to bed. I’m so thankful I was home. The worst thing would have been if Lumiere had died alone in the night at home with no pain relief. We will always miss him.

Baby Lumiere

Forever 6 <3

Last picture of healthy Lumiere

A couple hours before bedtime with “toy Lumiere.” We had no idea :(

Maybe it was thanks to the distraction and shock of losing Lumiere, but surgery went really well all things considered. It really ended up being more of a scope than a surgery because once he was able to visualize everything, the uterine lining looked really good and there really wasn’t anything to remove. No major polyps or anything as we thought- and the inflammation from the endometritis has really come down with all the antibiotics. He took another biopsy just to be on the safe side. I’ve lost count what number biopsy this is. I actually stayed asleep through the whole procedure which is what I was most scared about. I did have quite a lot of pain when I woke up, but after they ended up giving me a shot of Demerol in the thigh, my pain actually got under control and I had a better recovery than I expected. Most of my lingering pain was the fresh grief. Before I went into the OR, there was a little care package on my bed with “Lucky Socks” gifted to me from the Utah Infertility Resource Center. Maybe it’s just a little joke but I got choked up. It was so nice to feel seen and know that someone had thought of me in that vulnerable moment. Plus they were way more comfy and warm than normal OR socks. Such a funny token; I hope Kevin wears them the next time they have a funny sock contest at work.

Here I am pretending like I hadn’t just been crying for hours

Lucky Socks

About a week after the procedure, my biopsy results came in. The pathology did show some fragments of polyp. The biopsy was technically positive, but with far fewer of those CD138 cells (5 per 10 high power fields). My doctor reviewed the results, and combined with the appearance of the endometrium, he didn’t feel any endometririts was clinically significantly at this point. FINALLY.

To support a healthy ovulation, they want me to take Femara during a specific five days in my cycle. This would hopefully avoid having to do vaginal suppositories of progesterone twice a day for several months in early pregnancy (which I did with Aidia). Femara is used to treat breast cancer but is used off label for infertility. My doctor said the chance of twins only goes from 0.4% naturally to 0.8% on this med. Which helped with the instant nerves regarding an ovulation med. They told me I was cleared to try to conceive on my next cycle. 

After so many months waiting for that news, I told them I would be waiting another cycle, to give myself some time to recover. Plus I know my cycle will be really delayed since I took hormones for several weeks. I need some time mentally and physically. I also need to catch up on all the supplements I need to be taking. I was able to cut the quantity down some, but still have about a dozen pills to take each day.

Thankfully, the anxiety about trying to conceive has greatly diminished. I can provide all the love, nutritional building blocks, and preventative treatments and procedures. But I don’t actually get to decide if a growing baby will be healthy or not. I think working in the NICU has helped me see and accept how little control we have in so many situations, and how to move forward and make the best of it. All I can do is my best, and it’s almost a relief to turn a bit of it over to fate.

It’s empowering to remember that we make the life we want. We don’t always have control over our circumstances or difficulties, but our attitude has a lot of power. Maybe we sometimes forget that we can choose to make our life what we want it to be. You can buy a birthday cake for dinner if you want. You could move across the world.  We have to take chances to create our happiness.

Dreams Come True (Not Always in the Order You Think)

Sorry in advance for all the pictures in this blog post; life has been very full and very busy lately (which I’m thankful for!) I’ve been working hard and playing hard.

One night in April, I was feeling particularly frustrated, emotional, and maybe a little manic. I was still processing my latest biopsy returning positive. In addition, the one constant I planned on (my job) was going south fast. I planned on staying at SDCH through any fertility treatments or maternity leave, due to its flexibility and my seniority. During to the company acquisition, we started to have a mass exodus of long-time employees. We were all frustrated with the reduced benefits, cuts in compensation, and the lack of communication. We were extremely short staffed. As I ruminated on all the changes combined with my lack of progress at the fertility clinic, I impulsively applied for my dream job: a NICU position at Primary Children’s Hospital. I didn’t want to wait around on an imaginary timetable before advancing my career. For years I’ve been afraid that working in a NICU would be too hard when dealing with loss, infertility, and longing for a baby. For a fleeting moment, I didn’t feel that fear. I had a rush of confidence and knew I could trust myself as a nurse to love my patients and set myself aside. This is the speciality I’ve always longed to end up in. I just wasn’t expecting to try so soon, so unexpectedly. I’m scared of the triggers, but decided: be afraid and do the dang thing anyway. 

The morning after I applied, I felt a pit in my stomach. Even the idea of change is scary. I know I am very needed at my job, which is a gift. Someone needs to take care of these long-term acute babies and their families. I know my job matters. I care for my patients deeply. It’s a humbling calling to care for others’ babies; it would feel almost impossible to leave a tiny baby in the care of a stranger and I want to earn families’ trust. One family calls me “Auntie” when I take care of their baby and it’s literally the sweetest thing. I want to give every child the best chance in life, regardless of the hand life has dealt them. The more my coworkers quit, the more essential I felt to keeping the place running smoothly and safely. But my gut said- apply for the dream job- and I did. There’s no use in putting off career dreams for a baby- when in reality, that might not happen for us again. When I look back on the years covered in this blog, I see that I’ve learned how to make hard decisions. I just have to trust myself.

While waiting for a rejection or interview invitation, I was able to play a concert at Abravanel Hall. It was my second performance there, and still such a dream come true. I hope Salt Lake will reject the proposal to tear down the concert hall. I just feel like the luckiest to have somehow found a spot in the most wonderful community symphony. I can’t believe I just celebrated my 5-year anniversary with them!

Abravanel Hall

In another wonderful twist of fate, Kevin is joining the symphony for the season! We haven’t played percussion together since the early days of our marriage (We met and started dating when we were on the same drum line in 2010. We married the same year.) Now we bring our kids to symphony rehearsal and it’s my favorite kind of new family tradition!

2010

I still love watching him play the drums

I didn’t hear back from Primary Children’s Hospital right away, which allowed me time to stew in all my concerns. If I land this job, will I have to put off fertility treatments even longer? Is there ever a perfect time to have a baby? (No.) How would I balance a full time job at a major hospital with a high risk pregnancy? Could I meet my financial obligations if I had to cut my hours? Would childcare cost too much if I stayed full time? We experience all the regular pressures of being solidly middle class- debt, taxes, insurance premiums, medical bills, student loans, a mortgage, and a mini van. We still want to give our kids summer trips and sign them up for sports and music lessons. I mean have y’all been to the grocery store lately? One carton of eggs is like $18. Kids seem to get more expensive the older they get. I think I will end up paying for four sets of braces between the two of them. Jack is only a few years away from driving. How far could I stretch myself to bring another life into the world? It would benefit us in countless ways financially if I stayed full time and paid for our benefits. Kevin also picked up a PRN job as a side gig to supplement us, which is awesome. I don’t know when he’ll find time to do it, but I’m proud of him! We’ll find a way to make it work.

A NICU orientation takes months; and honestly, I would have years of training ahead of me. I LOVE to learn and my ultimate career goal is to get my neonatal critical care certification (which takes a few years.) I just felt so unsure about the timing! It’s my dream job and it seems like the worst time to make another big change. I have too many things in the air and it’s making me dizzy. Women want it all.

A week passed and I was mostly waiting on a rejection email, as IHC initially weeds out lots of potential candidates that way. It’s no secret that it’s a competitive position. It really all depends on the candidate pool, internal hires, etc. Fortunately for me, they did call to schedule an interview. I took the interview time, even though with my work schedule it meant I would be surviving on only naps for 3 days. Definitely not the best state to be interviewing in. I was pushing myself around the clock, and any spare moment was spent writing/rehearsing interview prep. The big day arrived. I have not been that nervous for an interview in years.

Interview Day

Fortunately, I felt calm and collected during the interview. I didn’t anticipate most of the questions asked, but my prep was close enough that I was able to respond without sitting there dumbfounded and speechless with racing thoughts (we’ve all been there right?) I thought the interview went as well as possible because I felt I had represented myself in the truest way that I could.

Then- radio silence. As my brother said, “To land your dream job you have to be good AND lucky.” As the weeks dragged on, my hope dwindled that I secured the position. You start telling yourself it’s “for the best” because “we have way too much going on,” and “it’s too far of a commute anyhow.”

I’ve been doing EMDR periodically in therapy. It is healing and I completely recommend it- but- it’s shocking when those really deep hurt feelings make their way to the surface and expose themselves. One day, after a particularly intense session was over, I was still wiping my tears and grounding myself, when the phone rang with a job offer.  

Just like that, my dream opportunity was in front of me for the taking. I’m determined to make it work. I’m so happy to return to a not-for-profit company. Maybe in the long run that could help with my student loans. The available benefits are so much better than those we currently pay for. I’m at a major crossroads of what choices I want to make for my life moving forward. 

NICU orientation and training is intense- or in their words, “robust.” I’m going to be very busy for the first couple months. I’ll be working day shifts and night shifts, which I am fine with, I just hope the kids handle it okay. It’s rigid, so they give me the schedule and it’s my job to make it work. 

Working out a babysitting schedule for training, in the middle of summer (no school to break up the day!) has given me a major stress headache. Let’s talk about mom guilt. I feel guilty when I’m at work that I’m not home with the kids. I feel guilty when I’m home that I’m not out making money. When I am actually home, I’m exhausted from work. Turns out when I have no energy, I am not Mary Poppins. I’m too tired to constantly entertain my children and enrich their lives with endless activities. Don’t kids ever just go outside and play anymore without first being threatened?! If you have a kid with behavioral issues on top of everything, it’s a whole other layer. Solidarity to working moms trying to figure it out. Feeling guilty for going to work is ridiculous. 

I finally finished my antibiotics and it was a marathon of the worst kind. I finished them just in time for our summer vacation- Las Vegas! We haven’t taken an extended trip with just the four of us before and it was wonderful. We were able to make some fantastic memories!

My favorite part of the trip was hearing the kids laugh uninhibited. So often I look at my kids and I love them so much it hurts. I can just feel my heart break in half. That is enough. Of course it is. Having children is sending your heart out into the world to walk around outside your body. It is wonderful and terrifying. If no other babies come, we still have everything we need.

After Vegas, I went in for my endometrial biopsy. Third one this year, fourth total. Since I survived the more intense course of antibiotics, I was actually excited. The idea that we could get the green light to try to conceive sounded too good to be true. Just in case, I told my doctor about the 2023 research regarding antibiotic-resistant endometritis. He asked me to send him the journal (Read here). I was covering my bases in case I once again ended up in that “rare” margin. Overall, I felt optimistic. Happy even. One very long week later, the results finally came back. Positive biopsy yet again. I am now fairly confident that I’ve had this infection for 5 solid years, and that it never cleared up with treatment in 2019.

When I asked what the plan was from here, the NP said, “We’re going to have to do some research.” I almost laughed. I sometimes feel like I’m rare only in the worst ways. She said my chart was “fascinating.” Hey, medically, I’ve got that going for me. When I mentioned the research I already sent, she actually found a note from my doctor regarding treatment if I was still positive. Right now, it is looking like I probably need a hysteroscopy to look for polyps and a D&C. I know that I had at least one polyp because they incidentally sampled one during the first biopsy this year and the pain just about killed me. I don’t see a downside to surgery, other than my less-than-ideal responses to anesthesia-type meds. I’m genuinely afraid of not being numb or sedated enough. It’s happened too many times. Maybe I’ll be lucky and they will put me all the way under. I’m nervous about the cost too, as insurance likes to reject anything remotely related to fertility. 

I really liked this new NP, who works with the doctor I’ve been seeing since 2014. She asked how I seemed to know so much (before seeing on my chart I work as a nurse) and immediately told me I should go further in school (noooooo). However, in this realm, my knowledge has really come from doing my own research and learning how to advocate for myself for over a decade. I credit a lot of that work leading me into nursing practice and I’m grateful for that.

I thought maybe I would feel a slight sense of relief if the biopsy came back positive again since so much is happening with the new job and having the kids home for summer. But I just felt deeply and wholly sad. The heart wants what it wants. It’s hard to imagine walking away from a dream you’ve been planning for so many years. It’s like slamming my head into a brick wall over and over again. If it’s not one thing, it’s another, and it’s always the same frickin’ brick wall. I’m just trying to have a baby and that wall that stops me in my tracks every single time. I was told chronic endometritis is “98%” curable with antibiotics; I sure find myself in that 2% margin frequently.

My top source for history, politics, therapy advice, and news is of course- true crime podcasts. A couple weeks ago I was listening to My Favorite Murder as they were discussing how we need to stop intellectualizing our feelings and actually let ourselves feel them. While I’ve heard that concept a million times, the next tidbit changed my understanding. They said most emotions only last about 90 seconds before they shift. So now I try to grit my teeth and let the emotions have their moment. Maybe they won’t come back to bite as hard later.

Wish me luck, the new job starts Monday! <3