Before I say this
Before I write this post, some of you want to run away now. It's going to be intensely personal. And biological.
Go on, I will wait.
Sitting in the fertility clinic waiting for my gyn appointment this afternoon it was hard to care about my stupid problems amongst those women. The ones who are desperately trying to have a baby (5 years in for one them), the ones who were showing everyone the picture of their "little seahorse" after the second round of IVF, the ones just starting on this journey.
It has been one hell of a long road to my kids.
And one that is apparently not getting any shorter. Or less unexpected. Because I have to tell you that just as infertility sort of smacked me in my stupid unknowing head, this complication has done the same thing. NEVER EVEN ON MY RADAR.
I have a grade 2 rectocele and a grade 2 cystocele from Grant's birth.
You can go ahead and look it up. But I will just tell you that it basically means I have pelvic organ prolapse and things are not where they belong.
The internet tells me this doesn't really go away without surgery.
My gyn tells me welllllllll, your tolerance for it will increase and you need a lot more healing time. You have basically had one of the biggest babies you can even give birth to vaginally and you are breastfeeding. Which was followed with "no one will want to do that surgery until you are one year post partum" so they can know what the real extent of the problem is.
The internet also tells me the surgery(ies) don't have a great success rate.
I can tell you as a human this DOES affect your quality of life. It's as if (and I will be blunt) you constantly have a tampon that is falling out.
And it leaves a lot more questions than answers. Should I stop breastfeeding and see if it improves? Or should I just keep going to six months as I planned because it's easier on Grant's belly and this needs a crap load of time anyway? Should I get another opinion? Am I totally done having kids? Is this going to get worse? Can I ever use a tampon again? (God, that one is way harder than you think it might be for someone like me who hates pads and associates pads with many miscarriages.) Can I really live with this for a year?
I don't know what to do to be perfectly honest.
I knew it was coming before I went in today. Dr Google helped me sort it out a long time ago.
But that does not make it any less emotionally devastating to be 37 years old and feel totally and utterly wrecked in such an intimate way.
So I think what I should do is just chew on it for a few days.
And tell myself many, many, many, many times over that I would not trade the kids for being "normal" again. (And I wouldn't. Honestly.)
But dear sweet baby Jesus, I think enough is enough, okay?