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Our Journey to Baby #2 (Part Three): It Shouldn't Be This Hard

Infertility Blog

On Monday, I finally had the diagnostic HSG (hysterosalpingogram) required to determine the success of my uterine septum resection surgery. In other words, they took some fancy pictures to check how much septum was remaining in my uterus after they had attempted to remove it. After getting into a gown and having the procedure explained, the radiographer left the room to organise her team. I sat butt-naked on the side of the cold bed feeling completely exposed thinking ‘it shouldn’t be this hard’. I was over it…the invasive procedures, the constant appointments, the poking and prodding, the clinical and sterile aspect to what was meant to be a natural part of life. I felt like an experiment. Sitting here writing this now, I can feel the same heaviness in my chest and the lump in my throat as when I was sitting in that cold, empty room fighting back the tears. But as usual, I snapped myself out of it, blamed my unstable emotions on my lack of sleep (I had finished night shift at 7.30 that morning and had quite literally been awake for almost 30 hours) and put on a brave face. I even felt reminded myself that this was one of the last hurdles to finally being able to give James a little brother or sister. I was hopeful.

The doctor put a tiny catheter through my cervix and injected a contrast into my uterus, which showed up on the x-ray machine beside me. When I saw the picture, I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow and remember thinking ‘you have got to be kidding me’. My uterus was still severely divided into two separate ‘horns’, with the septum extending most of the way to my cervix. In that moment, I felt deflated. I was in shock. I called Scott on the way home and he told me that I shouldn’t jump to conclusions until we heard the results from Dr S. I agreed, but deep down I knew, and I was angry.  My mind went into overdrive....the surgery was a complete waste of time…and now here we are three months later, desperately ready to start trying for another baby, and we have been thrown yet another barrier. And this is exactly what it was...another roadblock. Something else that had been put in our way, as if we hadn’t been through enough already.

HSG Uterine Septum
My uterus 'xray' via HSG - The contrast 'lights up' and shows my uterus. The white line surrounding this is what my uterus shape looks like from the outside (a 'normal' uterus would be completely lit up within this shape). Therefore the dark triangle patch in the middle is my septum. My cervix is obviously the point at the bottom. James was in the right 'horn', and I've been told this is the only viable side - you can see it is slightly larger.

On Wednesday, I decided to call Dr S and put myself out of my misery. One of the nurses from her office called me back not long after and gave me the news I was dreading, but expecting. The septum was still severe and it required another surgery. And then came the next slap in the face...Dr S wanted to use MyoSure for the next resection (a hysteroscopic tissue removal system intended for intrauterine procedures), but this wasn’t available until September. This meant that between the surgery and recovery, another 6 months would pass before we could even start trying to fall pregnant. I felt ripped off. What was the point? Is this even worth it? Just a few days ago Scott and I were discussing how we were ready for baby #2! We were expecting to get the all clear and we would be good to go! But instead, we were hit with that familiar gut-wrenching feeling of having our dreams ripped out of our hands.

Today, I’m still not coping with the idea of having another surgery. I’m not coping with the idea that I am once again ready to fall pregnant, but I’m being forced to wait. I’m not coping with the fact that everything seems to be out of my control. It may sound dramatic, but I’m completely drained. It shouldn’t be this hard. Scott is adamant on having my septum rectified before falling pregnant – the risk of miscarriage and pre-term birth is too high, and he would prefer to wait a while than go through an anxious pregnancy and another NICU journey. I understand where he is coming from, and if I’m truly honest with myself, I feel the same. But it’s not fair. My heart is hurting and I just wish it were easier for us. I’m grateful for everything we already have, I know others have it much worse, and I know this is just another part of our story, but today, I’m just not coping.

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