Skip to main content

I threw away my shirt.

I've told you, on January 25, 2013, I "received" (was blindsided) by my stage 1 uterine cancer diagnosis.  I was wearing this sweater shirt that I really liked.  It was bright yellow with navy blue cuffs, collar, and stripes.  It was comfy, and sunshiny, and I loved it.  And I know it's stupid, but after that, I had a negative feeling towards that sweater shirt.  I still wore it, but it was always in my head, this is the shirt I was wearing when my life shifted.     

On January 30, 2013, I started my cancer meds.  On February 6th, 2013, I met my oncologist who was in St. Louis.  I was wearing THE sweater shirt that made me feel positive because it was yellow and sunshiny.  And here is what I wrote in my journal on 2/6/13:  "StL was exhausting, but we got great news!  The cancer has not spread and is out of my body for now! We will continue with the plan.  Got back home and little after 6 and relaxed.  Huge weight lifted!" 

Besides family and Cricket,  I hadn't told anyone about what was going on with me.  But after the good news on the 6th, I told my close group of friends.  I was factual, and told them what was going on with me.  It's SO awkward when you have to tell people that you have the C word.  Because I didn't feel sick.  I didn't act sick.  I was still me, but I had this HUGE thing going on with me and I didn't want to draw attention to it, but I needed my best friends to know.  It's awkward in that kind of way.  And because these were my best friends, they were compassionate, understanding, and wonderful.  They made me feel more loved than I had ever felt in my life which was the Silver Lining in this whole shit show that was happening with me. 

On February 12, 2013, I wrote in my journal :  " Decided today to cancel the appointment with the fertility doctor on the 21st.  Jim and I don't feel that it's really necessary right now and I feel pressured and I hate it.  I feel much better now."  The back story on this was that I got diagnosed with uterine cancer and my gynecologist had told me that we'd treat it and get rid of it and then I'd have a baby or two if I was lucky and then I'd have a hysterectomy and it would be done.  But, when I had my first appointment with Dr. Mutch (my oncologist), he immediately said that I needed to harvest my eggs and freeze embryos and start these consultations with the fertility doctor at Washington University and it was TOO much.  I was completely overwhelmed and SAD and overwhelmed.  I asked Dr. Wellman (my gynecologist) if I needed to be thinking about harvesting my eggs and he told me no.  I didn't need to worry about that right now.  He said that we weren't at that stage yet.  I did not need to put that on my plate.  And that relieved me.  And so I cancelled that appointment.   

When I read my journal now, looking back on early 2013 ( post diagnosis), it makes me cringe.  There is a lot of self hatred.  A lot of negativity.  A lot of getting used to the meds that made me feel crazy.  This wasn't my fault.  But, of course that is so easy to say now that I am free and have my beautiful son.  All I saw then was how my body kept failing me, and how I couldn't do the one thing a woman was supposed to do.  I was SO hard on myself.  It's painful to read.  But, it's a huge part of my story.  A HUGE part of what makes me Sarah Laning today.  I fought past that.  And I'm not ashamed to say it was a fight.  The war against myself; The disappointment I felt in myself every day; The feeling that I was letting Jim down--it was this tug of war with the positive person I am.  These feelings felt so foreign.  I was happy on the outside because that's who I am.  I look for the sunshine, and light and joy in everything.  But, infertility robbed me of that in a way.  All I saw was my failure.  My inability to conceive a child made me feel SO small and insignificant.  It broke me.  I was a shiny, beaming, positive force who was slowly deteriorating with sadness on the inside.     

I had a really hard time sleeping during this time.  My doc prescribed me Xanax to help, but a lot of the time I was stubborn and didn't think I needed it.  I did.  I should've taken all of the xanax, because when I read my journal back from this time, it talks about how I was tired I was and how I wasn't sleeping and how the Xanax made me feel weak.  Ugh. Like I said-I was so hard on myself.  I wasn't fair to me. 

On April 11, 2013, I had surgery in StL.  I wore my yellow sunshiny, Navy striped sweater.   10 minutes before my surgery, Dr. Mutch came and nonchalantly told Jim and I that he'd be putting in a Mirena IUD to shrink the tumor.  Ummmm what?  Jim and I didn't even know there was  tumor.  I went into surgery feeling angry and in the dark.  Dr. Mutch said it's a precaution to keep the cancer at bay.  What cancer?  Jim and I had thought it was gone.  Not to mention, the Mirena IUD is a form of birth control and all I wanted was to have a baby.  The fact that this was decided for me and I had no choice in the matter..., I was pissed.  I was defeated.  I was so angry.  This was supposed to be a routine day.  A "routine hysteroscopy and DNC" to get us prepared to try for a baby in July.  Again, we were blindsided.  And again, Dr. Mutch told us that we needed to see Dr. Cooper about harvesting my eggs and freezing our embryos...."just in case".  The fact that the oncologist was pushing us towards a "just in case" 3 months after my seemingly "easy" diagnosis was troublesome and filled me completely with fear, uncertainty, and failure.   Such hard emotions for me...for anyone.  It really fucking sucked. 

June 1st, 2013:  Jim and I went to the Cardinals game for our 7 year anniversary.  He bought the tickets.  To my surprise, we sat right behind home plate!!!!  It was a dream come true and I'll never forget it.  He paid a fortune for those tickets, but he did it because I'd had a "hard year".  It is still one of my most favorite memories.  I will never get to sit that close again, but it was such a highlight of my life!

On Friday, July 12, 2013, I started my IVF injections.  Went to StL for blood work and Ultrasound.  I get scheduled to back on Wednesday.  Through the next few days, I journal about the terrible headaches and insane, unfamiliar emotions.   On July 17th, we got to StL in the morning to make an 8:15 am appointment for a blood draw and then get back to work from 12:30-4.  We do the same thing again 2 days later on Friday and then again a day later on Saturday.  Journal entry from 7/20/13:  Up at 3:30am to be in StL by 7:50.  11 folicles!!!  I'm so happy my body is finally doing something right.  Egg retrieval prob not till the end of next week though."  I went in to work from 6:30am - 9:30am on Sunday to make up for hours missed.  And then at noon, had a cookout at a friends.  My family and friends got me through this time, but I. Was. Exhausted.  We went back to StL on Monday morn, July 22nd for another Ultrasound (those who have been through IVF know this drill) and then to work from 12:30-4.  Hey, guess what, Tuesday, July 23, we had to be back in StL for another ultrasound.  While in StL that morning, they had told me my referral had expired and so we had no idea how much this whole thing would be costing us and if we could get a new referral or not--also a bigger worry for me was they weren't sure if my follicles were growing enough. I sobbed the whole way home from St. Louis and had to call into work.  I was a mess.  But, there was another trip to StL on Wednesday, July 23rd.  And we got great news--Egg retrieval on Friday!  That means trigger shot Wednesday night and no trip to St. Louis on Thursday...I remember the JOY from that day. 

July 26, 2013:  I had my egg retrieval.  They extracted 11 eggs!  The doctor that did it said she really had to push on my belly to see my right ovary.  I could definitely feel it.  I remember how much pain I was in after that.  It felt like I was punched and kicked and hit with a hammer in the stomach.  It was by far, the most painful surgery I'd had, but I felt so happy that it was over and successful!

August 15, 2013, here's my journal entry:  "Dr. Mutch called today and told me that the biopsy showed  NO CANCER!!!  And...we can get pregnant right away!  We'll see Dr. Cooper next week and make a plan!  SO HAPPY!!!"   I. Told. Everyone.  I was so pumped.  Jim was so pumped.  We were ecstatic. 

August 22, 2013 Journal entry:  "Went to see Dr. Cooper.  She is going to schedule a surgery to take out the Mirena and to take the septum in my uterus down more and then an embryos transfer 6-7 weeks after that!  EXCITED!"  On Aug 30, my surgery got scheduled for Sept 6th which is Jim's birthday;  I felt so guilty for ruining his day. 

Sept 6, 2013:  Jim's birthday.  Up early to be in StL by 7am for surgery.  It went great!  I was scheduled to start estrogen the next day to prepare my body for a baby!  In the weeks after this, I write about having cramps and sore boobs and how it's all worth it, but I wish that I had a real reason to feel these pains instead of them just being side effects from the drugs. 

September 25, 2013:  I write:  "Post-Op appt with Dr. Cooper,  I am praying for the embryos transfer soon." We were so excited about this appointment--we bought tickets to the 12:45 Cardinals game and had great seats.  But our appt with Dr. Cooper didn't go well:  "The cancer is still there.  No baby for a while.  I am devastated."  The next few days were full of cries and sleepless nights. 

I felt so angry and hopeless during this time.  Some very close friends of mine who had also struggled with infertility who had gotten pregnant lost their baby in October of 2013.  I was angry and sad for them as well.  It was at this time, that I abandoned my thoughts that there was a "God".  In the early months of 2013, I read the Bible front to back.  I started going to church because I felt that I had so much to be grateful for.  I prayed and I rejoiced and I tried to find comfort in the entity that us Catholics were raised to believe in.  I tried.  Really hard.  But, after I had been falsely told my cancer was gone, and then when my dear friends lost their baby...that was it for me.  God is something/someone you have to feel.  And I just didn't have the feeling.  Even today, when my mind is clear of the fogginess of heartbreak and disappointment, and full of gratefulness and joy, I am fulfilled with my own happiness and self worth.  "God" doesn't do it for me.  I do it for me.  My family does it for me.  My friends do it for me.  My power is my ability to feel joy and thankfulness and love and sorrow and anger and pride and this feeling of self worth, that comes from me being truly myself.  I will never judge those who find strength and refuge in a higher entity...It's just not where I find my strength.  I have my own powerful inner being.  I am me.  I've been through some shit (haven't we all?) and I'm here and better than ever.  I feel more comfortable in my skin than ever before.  It's because my dream came true.  I found my love and together, we made me a Mama.  These were my first dreams:  I wanted to be a wife and mom.  Old fashioned yes, but being a modern day woman, I am still So proud of making these dreams come true. 

My next dreams involve sharing more of myself with those who may need it.  Out of everything I've gone through with my struggle to be a Mom and then the added obstacle of getting rid of a disease I had no control over, my darkest and hardest times were those that were coming to terms with being infertile.  All I wanted during that time was to purge to someone who would truly understand.  I want to be that light for someone going through this.  If you're struggling, and you're reading this, I understand.  I hear you..  I feel you.  I see you.  It might be ok and it might not,  But, you are not alone.  I am here.  Infertility is a shitty word.  It will try to define you.  It might define you.  It defined me for years.  It still defines me when I let it.  But, I practice gratitude every day to defeat it. 

More to come some day.  Reliving 2013 tonight has been a bit emotional.  I am one of the lucky ones who as I sit here and types, I  look across the room at my beautiful boy watching his beloved Bubble Guppies.  He'll be my only boy, my only child and on some days, I am sad to admit this.  But most days now, I am filled with happy and acceptance that he was made for me and I for him.  We are imperfectly perfect. 

I will pick up where I left off at some point, but to kind of bring it all in, you should know that I threw away my yellow sunshiny, navy blue striped sweater/shirt.  I tossed it in December of 2013 after yet more devastating news.  Of course now I regret it.  It would have been a badge of honor, had I saved it, but my temper got the best of me and it is gone.  I still see it though, and that's enough.  Because the day I threw away my shirt, was the day I lost hope.  I didn't think things would ever get better.  They did.  They absolutely did.  But, my heart and mind took blow after blow.  Jim and I made it through and our dream came true.  But I threw away my shirt,  I always take pride in the fact that I never gave up...but throwing that shirt away, felt like throwing in the towel.  If I could take it back I would, but we all make mistakes...I have let it go....Like I said, I can picture it.  And I picture it as one of my weakest moments, but I also am so proud that I defeated it with stubbornness and perseverance.           




     

           

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

New Cars Come To Those Who Keep Their Old Cars For Way Too Long

 Our friends know about The Snowdog.  When we reference the Snowdog, you know that Jim spoke of him with love and I spoke of him with disdain.  The Snowdog is a 1997 Nissan Maxima, pictured on the left with my handsome, perfect, Lovey.  He was riddled with rust spots; He was missing logos; And worst of all, he had an exhaust system so loud that it was impossible to have a conversation while riding in him, and even more impossible to go unnoticed while driving him...rust spots and all.  Which is why I didn't have the nicest things to say about Jim's sweet Snowdog.  But, we have history with that stupid car too.  Jim bought him in 2001 when we first started dating.  I didn't have a working car at the time, so we kind of shared the Snowdog.  You know, back then, it was only a 4 year old car and it was the nicest car my Lovey had ever owned. And it was super sweet of him to let me drive around town in it after I dropped him off at work....

Respecting My Losses

It's Christmas time and my mind's all aflutter.  I LOVE this time of year.  The magic.  The excitement through my son's eyes.  The soothing glow of the lights that is so comforting when you turn off all the  other lights except for those on the tree and mantle.  The wood stacked next to the fireplace.  The warmth of that fire that my husband lights whenever I request it.  It's truly magic.  I used to dread it.  I used to feel like I was never enough, like I never had enough to give, like the pressure of the season was going to force me to implode.   I am so grateful that I'm not there anymore.  That I can appreciate now what seemed like too much in the past.  This write is about how I learned, and am still learning to manage the doubt, loss, and pressure inside of me.  These are not the most up-lifting things, but they are a part of me and I think it's important to share.  Because I am happy.  I am co...

Am I really starting a blog?

Today at my Dad's, my sister Leslie encouraged me to start a blog.  My dream of writing my story and becoming an author came up, and Leslie said that by starting a blog first, I would be able to gain followers, an audience, people who love me, and will someday buy my book! So, to keep up with my theme of 2017, I thought "Why not?  Let's try it and see what happens."  Shrug shrug, twitch, twitch.  And so here I am with my own domain name and everything!  sarahbhappy.blogspot.com.  Cool. I'm 38 years old. I'm a wife to my Lovey Jim and a proud Mama to one bonkers, psychotic, mischievious, impatient, perfect, sometimes the worst, but mostly the best little 2 year old Keaton James.  Or Keats as we call him around these parts.  It took a lot of little miracles and a couple enormous ones for Keats to be (which I will tell you about in time).  So when I say I'm a proud Mama.  I mean I'm a PROUD Mama.  I mean I am a HAPPY Mama. ...