TMI

Pain.

I'm not so good with it.  Or, I suppose it could be said that I have a high threshold of pain, but have had to deal with a high amount of pain for quite sometime.  I hesitate to say that I've been living with chronic pain because, well, it's not every day.  I have friends dealing with chronic pain from fibromyalgia, ulcerative colitis, arthritis, TMJ, and wandering husbands--but my pain waxes and wanes on a monthly cycle.

Yes, this is the post where I talk about my struggle with Endometriosis. 

Growing up I just thought I was a wuss. That everyone else also had cramps that made them double over in pain, become light headed, and throw up.  That everyone else became anemic and weak.  And that I was just a big weanie for complaining about it.  That everyone else would lose roughly a pint and half of blood a day for 10 to fourteen days every five weeks.  It didn't help that this also seemed to be the case for the rest of the women in my family.  Being on the pill did seem to lesson my symptoms, but only to say that instead of feeling like I was in labor, I was merely experiencing Braxton Hick's. 

It wasn't until we began seeing our fertility specialist that we first got the diagnosis.  Because really, they can't diagnosis the nasty stuff without digging around in your abdomen and lady parts. Oh, and did I mention that my lady parts initially were shaped like a heart?  The technical term they used was "uterine septum" but my doctor basically described it as having two uteruses.  (Or is it uteri?)  So when Dr. T removed my septum, we also okayed him to remove any and all endometriosis should he find any.  And he did.

Now for lots of people, simply having a baby clears up endometriosis for good.  You have a baby then you go on the pill to help reduce the hormones that cause the stuff to grow and you're golden.  But seeing as we were already struggling with infertility, I just couldn't bring myself to take the pill after Henry was born.  Something in my heart felt like taking the pill was completely giving up.  Was interfering with God should He want to perform some sort of miracle.

Eventually, I was back on painkillers every month.  At first, I could get away with large doses of OTC stuff.  Then I went to Ponstel, a non-narcotic.  Then, last summer, I finally found the pain in my back and abdomen outweighed the pain in my heart regarding ever being pregnant again.  Also, I think God had worked in my heart--I was resting in the fact that either our family was complete or if we were going to add to it, we would do so with adoption.

For certainly God performs miracles through adoption every day.

So I went back on the pill.  And while the pill reduced the severity of my symptoms, they were still there.  Nagging me.  I was still waking up every morning for a week having to change the sheets on my bed.  On more than one occasion Sloan was afraid to go to work because of the amount of blood I'd lost.  And it also seemed ridiculous to be spending $40 a month for this pleasure. 

So we're now back at the drawing board.  I quit the pill a couple of months ago and am getting an IUD on Tuesday.  I'm stoked.  Well, I'm not stoked about the pain I've been in the past couple of cycles, but stoked that, according the literature I've read, there's an 80% chance of this being healed up within the next 6 months without me having to have surgery again or, in the worst case scenario, remove the offending lady parts.

I am only two years younger than my mom was when she had to have her emergency hysterectomy after hemorrhaging on a girl's weekend to Williamsburg.  I want to avoid that.  I like drinks with umbrellas on my girl's weekends, thank you very much.

But this week has been hard.  I spent Sunday night through this morning in incredible pain.  I could barely walk.  And lying on the floor seemed only to invite my children to jump on my back and stomach.  Which, oddly enough, did not help the situation. 

An acquaintance of mine told me to make peace with the pain and work through it.  I told her she was an effing hippie and seriously considered de-friending her until she shot me a "I hope you feel better :)" comment.  And I guess I'm a sucker for emoticons even when feeling like I'm in labor passing clots the size of golf balls.  (See why I titled this post TMI?)

Taking the big gun narcotics while parenting solo is not ideal, so I was homebound both of those days.  The kids watched a lot of Sesame Street.  A lot.  Thank God we have something like 150 episodes of it on Netflix.  Henry has also fallen in love with the 1960s Spiderman.  And Grace ate the head off a decorative duckie soap.  Also, taking the big pills while you're basically having contractions doesn't really make you high.  (A good thing?  I guess it’s all depending upon how you look at it.)  It just sort of makes the pain a dull ache. And you have absolutely no ability to focus.  This morning was my first day back on my Ponstel, and I found many tasks half-done: laundry, dishes, and, randomly, I apparently attempted reorganizing my pantry. It’s probably a good thing Sloan is in Pennsylvania as he’d probably also object to the large bags of the kids’ toys I’ve sorted through with items to sell and/or give away.  I think the kids have 3 legos and a flash light left in the sun room.

Even more difficult than parenting while under the influence is attempting to parent while you're in pain.  I found that I didn't really care what the kids did so long as they didn't a) require me to move, or b) kill themselves.  I can't be sure, but I think we ate Ritz crackers and cheese cubes for more than one meal.  I was slowly going insane staying in my house.  I briefly remember washing and drying a large quantity of Capri Suns.  Yes.  I washed juice bags.  (Okay, so maybe you get a little high when you take painkillers.) And they are now neatly arranged on the bottom shelf on my pantry.  Which is right at Grace’s eye level, making that the world’s worst location for Capri Suns EVER!  (Seriously, I couldn’t manage to fold the six loads of laundry I managed to do but I hand washed flipping juice bags?  I’m killing me, smalls!)

Today, I was able to connect with a friend and we met at the pool.  She helped me wrangle the kids.  I'm planning on going to the pool tomorrow as well, two hours of which I will put my kids in the gym child care.  I have a date with my book and a chaise lounge.  Around lunch, my friend is again meeting me with her kids to help out.  She is also taking Henry the afternoon of my procedure so I can nap while Grace is napping. 

I have attempted to make some sense out of all this.  To discern what God has for me in the midst of this pain.  I would like for there to be a clear answer as to the why.  It has made it easy to be grateful for my infertility because it brought me Grace.  Pain, on the other hand, has not produced a neat little spiritual gift I can wrap up for you in a blog post.  Except to say, that like my infertility, the pain has brought me much Grace.  From my dear husband.  From my friends.  From my Savior who has not left me here to agonize alone, but has clung to me and brought me patience and peace.  Not peace with my pain, mind you.  But peace and patience with the people I'm still required to love and serve whilst in pain.