So long story short, I was riddled with scar tissue. Enough that Dr. S. believes it's probably the sole reason we've been trying and failing for as long as we have.
In just a half an hour he freed up my fallopian tubes (which were adhered to their respective ovaries with said scar tissue) burst a little ovarian cyst ("while I was in there", which seems like a perfectly good reason to pop an ovarian cyst to me) and gave us back some hope, which I've definitely been in short supply of lately.
Except now, of course, I'm kind of scared that we really will get pregnant.
I suppose this is a common side effect of infertility, that "HOLY SHIT - WHAT IF I ACTUALLY GET PREGNANT????" panic. Because all I've done for nearly two years is focus on conceiving. I haven't really given much thought to being pregnant, staying pregnant, surviving being pregnant, giving birth, surviving giving birth, and having a take-home baby at the end of it all.
It's all been too abstract. Too hard to fathom after Thomas came and went. Live babies are what other people have. Getting pregnant is what other people do. I just try and fail. And try and fail. And try and fail.
So now that some hope has been restored and my fallopian tubes are the free-flowing, octopus-like structures they should be (seriously, who knew they were octopus-like in their movement??) I guess maybe I can (and possibly should) think beyond conception to pregnancy.
Or maybe I should just wait until I see two pink lines. Because even though I'm allegedly in working order, I still can't quite picture any of this just yet. I'm hopeful, but the scars no doctor can ever get rid of are always going to be in my way.
I know I probably don't sound as grateful and excited as I should. But we're not there yet, and I have no idea what it's going to take to get there. I am grateful that the surgery was a success (except that one tube still appears to be blocked for no apparent reason and there's nothing more to be done for it) and I am grateful to have been given renewed hope.
But I'm also scared.
And I truly am scarred - not just from losing Thomas, but from feeling broken and useless for so long. And from dealing with the sorrow and those awful feelings of guilt over the fact that my body has so steadfastly refused to produce and/or protect a healthy child during the four years we've been trying to get it to do just that.
You can't turn that off like a light switch. You just can't.
The glimmer of hope is there, but right now it's just a tiny pin prick of light.
Give me time. I'll get there.