My doctor and I sat down in her office. Her intern was with her. I knew immediately something was wrong.
My heart sank. “Mrs. Murphy, We just don’t know why this is happening.” It seems that had always been my way in life. I had to do things the hard way. It was never anything easy. Always the struggle. You see, I am just a simple 29 year old woman. About 5’10”. Brown hair, brown eyes. Nothing special. Nothing more or less than the next person. In fact I love people. That’s why I had become a police officer.
But let me rewind this a few. I promise this story will add up for you. Just be patient with me. This journey really starts when I was about 18 years old.
I had a very VERY traumatic Christmas Eve in 2004. My year ended with me on a mass amount of medications and brain surgery. Tumor so they suspected. Thankfully it was nothing, but it was bad enough to have me in tears yelling, and sobbing in the ER. It had been blocking vital fluids. It was painful.
Fast forward to 2006. I had healed, and I had worked my heart out. I joined the military. Shipped off to boot camp and did my thing. 16 shots in one day- later 7 weeks in, and I ended upbeing forced into coming back home. You see… they noticed a few medical issues that needed to be sorted out. Ok, no big. I’ll be back with a good to go. While sorting it out the impossible happened.
My mother was sick. She was my first priority. I ended up staying. No harm though, I had found my calling. Law enforcement.
2010 Life was scary. It was fast, and things were being thrown in my face. Life of a rookie I suppose. No FTO program. Then city was a little too hectic. They needed people fast. I just had a partner and was supposed to pay attention.
The house was a shack and it smelled. Oh, no. Wait. That was me. It was a pungent smell. The sliminess of the cold wet noodles shocked me. He did it. I couldn’t believe it. I was doused in ravioli. The canned kind. The mentally deranged Veteran was having nothing of me telling him what to do.Instead he was running around the house in his underwear, screaming, and banging pots and pans. When he wasn’t trying to chase me with the full ones.
That was the way of the world though. Get yelled at, get hit, fight, handcuffs and then off to jail. Oh yeah, back to the guy with the sharp ravioli can and the mental issues. Yes we fought, and yes he bit me. The big scare for me was what I found out later when I got to the jail. He had Hepatitis. It was the most fearful weeks of my life waiting for blood tests to come back, and all the medications that they made me take to make sure nothing else happened. Negative. Life went on.
“NO. Darnissa, the shoes don’t go on your hands. YOUR FEET! Put them on your feet! Foot! The thing with toes…. Hello? Oh who am I kidding….” Stick. Piercing, blinding pain. I just looked down with this big diabetic needle sticking out of my finger. My world was feeling funny. Fast. That was brown….yellowwwww…..rrrnmmghshshs…… Thankfully my partner caught me as I almost passed out. I tested positive for heroin for a while. I had to take off from work for a week. Pills……..so many pills. I was petrified I had gotten something. So much blood to be drawn. I looked like a junkie when I left the hospital later. Negative. Thankfully.
2011 Yea. Something like that. I was on a motorcycle, and the breeze was awesome. You see, Texas can get really hot in the summer. In wool. In knee high leather boots. My hair was braided back in a French braid. I had the stereotypical cop shades on. And I thought I looked awesome. What I really looked like was a raccoon with white face straps when all the gear came off. But with that radar gun in my lap, and school zone lights flashing behind me I felt like a safety net to those kids. I was so happy to be doing my job. 56mph. Yep I got another one. Radar went on a clip on my belt, and off I went. You see, not too long ago a little girl had been hit by a man on his cell phone flying down the road. She hadn’t made it. I was devastated when I found out it was an area I liked to work but hadn’t in a while. Ticket was served and I went back to my spot. I pulled my radar from my belt, nestled it on my lap and waited for another car.
It’s 2015 and here we are. For the first time in a year I had gotten my cycle.
My doctor and I had been working heavily together since my husband and I were hoping to get pregnant. Since I didn’t have my period, I couldn’t. One of the many side effects of Depo-Provera. Not to mention the weight gain from 165lbs to 220. I asked my previous primary care physician and she said that there were not really any lasting side effects. She lied horribly. She also said a ton of other things and one day I had enough of, and when I had a major issue and she blew me off. My new primary doctor was horrified. So was my OBGYN. No PCOS though. That was a relief.
I ended up coming to the Washington D.C. area in May. I spoke with my new doctors and soon enough we were back on our journey. I was set up with a doctor that insisted I do IUI. No. I didn’t want that. Sure you do. No. Yes. No. Complaint. Ok FINE. No, you can do IVF.
I felt like I was having a battle in my head with 6 shouting no and one little one begging for help. It was just that bad. My doctor listed off a 7 thousand dollar sticker price. I was shocked, but it was doable. Mom was going to help. I could manage. In reality though, that was far from the truth. We were looking at more like 28 thousand total.
I inhaled. I exhaled and then I lost it. In a very hushed tone I told the woman on the phone I had to let her go. I then melted. I was done. I felt like every bone in my body had been ripped from my skin and I just collapsed inside. The lump in my throat was horrible. I tried so hard to hide the tears from my husband, but that didn’t work. His response? “How do I turn it off?????” a 3rdrock from the sun reference. Its our favorite show to watch.
I was in shock. I couldn’t believe it. Not only because only a year ago we actually had that money, but now more so than ever since we got ripped by a major car company and had to buy a different vehicle and for the better part just junk our brand new car. We had no possible way to even make payments for 28 thousand.
Back to sitting in that doctors office.
Since they didn’t know why I was infertile I gave them a list of issues I thought were possible. They started to nod, then agree, then test and then one day looked at me with this horrible, petrifying look of remorse and sympathy. I hated that look. It’s the same I had when I lost my partner a few years ago. I never stopped crying when people gave me that look. I rubbed my memorial tattoo as I rocked slightly. I was about to lose it again in this office. I couldn’t help but feel tears well up. We discussed IUI and even then with a 2% chance I knew it was the only option I had that was better than nothing. I could afford 170$ a month out of pocket.
So much for full health care. My police job used to be able to cover us for this stuff 100% minus copays. Too bad for little olme. Little miss Casey. The child in me curled up into a ball and sobbed. It was over. Ruined, by that chance when I followed my husband to this new state so we could have a normal married life and so he could have his career. Family and support. I couldn’t lay blame on him. I found myself wanting to.
So here I sit. Waiting. It’s close to attempt number two on IUI.It’s so violating. So impersonal. So cold. I feel like less than a human. I feel like a lab rat. My heart broke the first time I saw that tell tell rusty red when I was getting everything ready to attempt a pregnancy test. I wanted to see if attempt IUI one had worked. I was disgusted with myself. I felt like a failure as a woman.
The only thing I can come up with is the hope that attempt number two will take. I’m petrified of that feeling for failure. I want to feel like a woman. I slammed my head on my desk and let out the groan we all do. You know the one that tells others we are done. I don’t know how much I can take of this. I know my struggle has just started. I need to do better than this. I AM A COP AFTER ALL. It’s my job to be STRONG. Yeah. Worked huh? No. Me neither. I look up to those women with 6 years and nothing and are still trying. Im just going to save up my money and maybe adopt. I was adopted. I would be happy with that.
Nope. Didn’t help either. Im just going to sit in my corner. Sulk. Knit…..ooooOOooo wine. There is a plus side to getting your period.
Good Luck. We need all that we can get.
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