Today is the day for an anecdotal parable
Warning: Probably TMI unless you are going through fertility treatments as well.
An anecdotal parable?
Yes, because it is both amusing (if a bit embarrassing) and filled with moral lessons (if you look hard enough).
I feel obligated to warn you that it is a bit intimate, bloody, and filled with awkward lady parts. However, since I am more than likely talking to a group of people who are used to measuring their own cervical mucus…well, you should feel right at home.
I have always had heavy, fairly uncomfortable, periods. I went on birth control at age 16 to help with the flow and intensity. Despite numerous tests, there is nothing glaringly wrong with me. My uterus just likes to be really, really clean for the next egg.
Ever since my miscarriage with the first IVF round about a year ago, my periods have been much heavier and contained a lot of tissue. Again, the GYN did some testing and came back that it was nothing to worry about, just my body adjusting considering all the hormones and drugs I am pumping into it. All it means is that hours 12-48 of my period are extremely uncomfortable and very, very messy. I have considered wearing an adult diaper.
For the last two cycles I have been a day 21 start, pushing Lupron for a week and a half before my baseline ultrasound. This puts the baseline ultrasound at just about hour 36 of my period, which is prime time for large chunks of uterine lining half the size of palm.
This last month, I go in for my baseline and I warn the nurse that I can’t take my tampon out and my heavily pad-lined underwear off until the doctor is truly, absolutely ready for me. She nods knowingly and pats my shoulder conspiratorially, saying that she will put me in exam room 1, which has a little bathroom and that she will make sure to put a little extra padding down on the chair for absorption. I thank her, relieved that someone understands.
The nurse and I manage the tampon removal-Doctor arrival-legs up in the air with my nether bits exposed timeline like we are in the pit at a Nascar race.
=
I begin to feel rather confident that we have this all under control. I warn the doctor that I am bleeding pretty heavily. He smiles and nods dismissively and take a quick look.
“Yes, you seem to be bleeding a bit, but that is normal. We will make this quick.”
He inserts the speculum, opens it up, and it was like opening up the floodgates. I could feel a sudden release from the pressure in my cervix and the warm feel of blood all over the chair. Both the nurse and the doctor had stepped back from the chair, with the nurse exclaiming,
“Oh! Wow, she is really gushing! Hang on, let me clean up the blood on the floor so that no one slips.”
It was like Carrie at the prom.
They got the floor all cleaned up and used some surgical towels to soak up enough blood to finish the exam. The doctor removed the speculum, only to have several long strands of bloody tissue grasp on for the ride out and plop onto the floor, which the nurse had to clean yet again.
Feeling a bit like a pig that had just been trussed up and gutted, I laughed weakly and awkwardly, and said, “Well I guess I should thank you. With all that tissue you pulled out, you saved me a lot of cramping…”
Don’t worry, I won’t include a visual of the poor pig. Just look to Carrie again.
So, in order to fulfill the promised parable portion of this post.
The morals of this story are that:
Regardless of how messy and unfit for a polite tea with the queen our bodies can sometimes be, there should never be any shame in natural bodily functions. It is important to rely on communities such as this. In a world where IVF and infertility is a hidden, taboo topic, I am glad I can come here to share my emotions and experiences with people who can relate to, and perhaps even laugh at, stories like this.