I honestly thought things would be different post-surgery. There was this idea floating around my head that this whole thing would be a fresh start. I'd come to in recovery with a positive outlook that would maybe even be enough to get me off of or at least a lower dose of head meds. I would say, "Okay, let's move on."
Having to have a hysterectomy was not a surprise. Once we knew IVF didn't work and that my egg reserve was pretty rotten (yes, went for the pun) we pretty much knew we were done trying. With that decision, we knew a hysterectomy was inevitable, but not an emergency. It was simply a matter of when I would decide to have it. Well, I started to develop some discomfort and knew that my left ovary was getting its ass kicked by endometriosis. Then, when getting that checked out, it was discovered that polyps were developing in my uterus. It simply made sense to move ahead with surgery.
Since I knew all of this, I really thought the surgery was just a technicality. I even thought that it would be the end of my struggle with infertility. It would seal the deal that I was 100% unable to carry a baby of my own; a piece of Shawn and me; an experience that real women get to have. When I woke up from it, I was supposed to do that hand clap thing that you do when you finish doing some dirty, dusty work.
It hasn't been that way at all and I can't seem to get myself there. Now that I'm not sleeping as much as I did the first couple of days, I've started to really feel the pain of it all. Not a pain that Percocet is intended to treat.
I'm overwhelmed and I'm sad and I'm mad and I'm empty and I'm lost.